The Word of Dresden (The Story of a Mirrorverse)
by griffyn612
Summary: There is no greater power than that of Free Will. With it, one might splinter the world in two... But what might come of such a world? One that parallels another, its story so different, and yet hauntingly familiar... Gathered here are the Words of the Dark Wizard Dresden, the Baron of Chicago. Here is the tale of how one man united the supernatural world... against himself.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Dresden Files is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

Summary: The story begins in Chapter 35 of Grave Peril, where the world diverges from the one you know...

* * *

Chapter 03 - Graver Perils

 _I love you._

There's power in those words.

Three small words. And yet somehow they manage to encompass all of our hopes and fears, our needs and wants, our dreams and desires. Everything that we are, everything we've been, everything we could be, all given freely to another with just three simple words. With those three words, you offer up your heart and soul to someone, with no guarantee of anything in return.

Maybe that's why I didn't say them.

Maybe I wasn't ready.

I knew that I loved Susan Rodriguez. I loved her as much as I'd loved anyone in my short life. I'd loved my mother, despite having never met her. I'd loved my father, despite having only a short time together before his passing. I'd loved the girl that had been my first everything. I'd loved the man that had taken me in, and become my second father.

I'd loved plenty in my life. That part is easy.

The hard part comes when those you love fail you. As they will, time after time. You'll give your heart to others, and they'll hand it back in pieces. A mother will set a child up for failure even before he's born. A father will leave a child alone and penniless, and at the mercy of the world. A lover will betray everything you had. A surrogate father will try to break you.

When giving your love to others has done nothing but bring you misery, you'll find that giving it again is not so easy.

You'll be tempted, of course. You'll tell yourself that it couldn't happen; you can't have your heart broken _again_.

But there's a dark corner of your mind that whispers to you. Warns you. Calls you a fool for believing that anyone would ever really, truly love you.

In that moment, I listened to the dark corner of my mind, instead of listening to my heart.

Maybe I should have listened to Michael. Maybe I should have told Susan that I loved her.

Maybe that would have made all the difference in the world.

* * *

In the basement of Bianca's mansion, as Susan pressed her teeth against the flesh of my neck, I thought of saying those three words. But they died in my throat. And my love died with them.

Nothing I said could get through to her. The blood-lust had taken her, leaving her craving that which pumped feverishly beneath my skin. The poison working its way through my veins had prevented the vampires from feasting on me, but from the look on Susan's face, it wouldn't be enough to stop her from killing me.

I lashed out, my fear spiking as I felt her teeth tighten on my flesh. I had felt all too much of that in the hours prior, and the sensation overrode my attempts at stopping Susan peacefully.

The kinetic blast I unleashed threw her across the room. She bounced off one of the laundry machines there, her back twisting painfully on impact. But it wasn't enough. The vampire blood was in her veins, and nothing would stop her until my own was in her belly.

She surged forward, her eyes as dark as night as they stared hungrily. I managed to climb to my feet, and raised my arms defensively as she fell upon me. Her strength surprised me, and I recoiled from her fury as her still-human teeth gnashed at my arms.

I wished that I had something left in the tank, something I could use to at least stun her. Daze her enough to try and reason with her again. But the kinetic spell I'd thrown at her had been the last of my reserves.

As she thrashed, I managed to twist to one side, throwing her off balance. She stumbled, and I heard Justine whimper somewhere behind me. Before I could retreat to the girl, Susan had recovered, launching herself at my midsection.

The blow was enough to knock me off my feet, and she drove me to the floor. My head smacked against the cold concrete, and bile rose in my throat as my head grew dizzy. My vision swam, but I could still see clear enough when Susan dove at my neck. I felt a sharp pain then, one that lent itself to a visceral and panicked response. I pushed at her, clawing desperately at her body. I tried drawing magic into myself, but nothing came.

My own body had seen too much abuse to put up a fight, and I'd spent the last of my magic on that final attack.

There was nothing left for me but pain.

I could feel the trickle of blood running down my neck as Susan tore at it, her teeth seemingly growing sharper as she dug deeper. I felt my heart flutter as I pushed at her, but she was too strong. Too strong by far.

That's when Justine struck.

A desperate cry escaped her curled lips as she struck something against the back of Susan's head. I couldn't see what it was, but it didn't make much of a difference. It pulled Susan's attention away for only a moment, as the half-turned vampire I'd loved lashed out and struck the girl away.

And then Susan was upon me again, and I felt my breath stutter through my throat as the world went black.

* * *

My nightmares came quickly, and the Nightmare was waiting.

It was like a fever dream, one where the world around you is a swirl of color and sensation. My dream was of dark things in dark places. And beyond them, an endless darkness, just waiting to crash upon whatever light was left in my world.

I was unconscious, my mind lost in pain and my body on death's door. But that didn't mean that whatever was left of Leonid Kravos didn't have time to have its fun.

The Nightmare attacked, and I wish I could say that I resisted. But there was nothing left in me. No magic, no strength, no will to fight. When the thing tore into me, it did so with glee, and I had nothing to offer in return but desperate screams.

But the mind is a strange place. A wizard's mind, even stranger. So as I lay dying in both the real world and a dream world of the Never-never, whatever was left of me took form.

As the Nightmare played, I saw a dark figure appear in the shadows. The form was familiar, and I couldn't help but laugh through the agony as my ghost stepped forward and seized the Nightmare from behind.

The thing struggled, to be sure. But we were in _my_ mind; in _my_ dream demesne in the Never-never, and what was left of me held the Nightmare back as I struggled to rise. It raged and thrashed, full of power when I had none. And yet my ghost held it with a grim determination. I rose before the Nightmare, a fire still burning within me somewhere, determined to not let some two-bit hack like Leonid Kravos have any role in my death.

As my ghost held it, I slashed at the Nightmare. My fingers grew sharp in my mindscape, talons tearing at incorporeal flesh. My own rage and hate fueled me. My hate for Kravos and Bianca, for taking everything I loved. My hate for Lea, for her role in things, playing games that had cost me any chance of getting through to Susan.

And hate for myself, of course. For failing the others. Failing Michael, and Thomas, and Justine. Failing Susan.

Failing myself.

I gave in to that hate; let it guide me as I fought the thing. I found myself tearing chunks of it free, and then passing it through my lips. My face grew slick with gore as I feasted on the thing that had caused so much pain to Murphy, and Mickey Malone, and myself.

And as I did, I felt power return to me.

That's what the Nightmare was. Power. That which was left of Kravos, and my own which it had stolen. Raw power.

Power that I could use.

It was not pretty, what I did. I ripped away everything that the Nightmare was, and made it part of me. My own power was there; pure, silver lightning coursing through my veins as it was restored to its rightful place. And with it, the dark, carmine fire of Kravos' own magic, fueled with hate and evil.

The nature of his power did not matter to me in that moment. Power was power. No matter how dark, it could be bent to my will. My purpose. I could use it, and maybe — just maybe — I could survive.

I devoured every last drop of the Nightmare. Its terror-laced cries had ceased long before I was done. My ghost, formed of my unfinished will, had long since faded. Perhaps it had looked upon me in disgust as it did. Perhaps I only imagined it.

That was fine. Its purpose had been fulfilled. My own still remained. It had no right to judge me for doing what needed to be done.

When I had finished with the Nightmare, my dream self thrummed with power. Bright silver and dark red coursed through me, swirling, spinning, blending into my being.

I stood strong in the dreamscape, stronger than I could have hoped. And when I opened my eyes, the demesne of the Never-never snapped away, as I was thrust back into the real world, to face what awaited me.

* * *

I awoke to carnage.

Blood still seeped from the damage done to my neck. I reached for it, and found my body still feeble and weak. The healthy form of my dream self was nothing but an illusion; in the real world, I was still very much at death's door.

But I was alive.

Justine was not.

I turned my head at an inhuman sound, and found myself staring into the dull eyes of the dead girl. Her own throat was savaged, but there wasn't much blood. Some, to be sure, but the wound upon her neck was mostly just shredded flesh and muscle.

Her blood lay in the belly of the beast across the room. The beast that had once been Susan Rodriguez.

I struggled to rise, and found myself barely up to the task. As I did, I watched the dark, leathery thing writhe as it completed its transformation.

It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. When my consciousness had fled, Susan had been feasting on my blood. My _poisoned_ blood, which had finally turned her away from me. My foolish precaution had saved my life once again, and cost Justine her own.

The bloodthirsty woman I'd loved had turned her attention on the girl, and there was nothing she could do to defend herself. Not against the strength Susan had exhibited even before she had transformed.

I watched as the form stilled, and a monstrous face turned its attention back to me.

I don't know if the transformation wiped away what was left of her. I don't know if it made her forget that my blood was poisoned. All I know is that the fully turned Red Court vampire that charged at me had my death in its dark eyes.

I met its determined gaze with my own.

I thrust a hand forward, and unfamiliar words trickled through my lips. The spell I unleashed hit the vampire full on, and sent it crashing backward with incredible and violent force. Had it struck a solid wall, it would have surely been crushed.

Instead, it struck the door to the room, which was smashed into so much kindling beneath the blow.

The vampire bounced off the wall across the way, and fell to the floor in a daze. I struggled to rise, but by the time I had, two more figures had joined the dark leathery thing. I recognized them, and fury coursed through my veins as the Hamilton twins looked upon my rage.

The show of force must have been enough. The two shared a glance, and then they were gone. The newly formed vampire disappeared with them, supported by the two. I was left staring into an empty hallway, my chest heaving as the ferocious power within me demanded to be unleashed.

But there would be time for that.

I stumbled out into the hallway, unwilling to look at the dead girl I was leaving behind. There was nothing I could do for her now. All I could do was try and survive, and if I couldn't, perhaps try and balance things before I died.

I searched the basement, looking for anything I could use. I came across my things in another room, and was surprised to see Bob's skull intact. Bob had something nonsensical to say, but I silenced him. There was no time for levity. No time for anything but vengeance and survival.

Once I'd donned my jacket and gathered my things, I made my way out of the basement. The house was quiet, but I knew that there would be something awaiting me. Bianca wouldn't just let me go.

I found them in the great hall. Bianca stood upon the raised dais where she'd reigned over her court the night before, still dressed in all her finery. The Hamiltons were similarly attired, which was a stark contrast to the other dozen vampires around them, their true forms revealed and ready for a fight.

And kneeling beside Bianca, her latest undead child.

I hardly took note of the mortal gunmen between us. When they opened fire, it took nothing more than a thought to create a shield and send their bullets back at them. Half of them fell to flesh wounds, and the others ceased fire, knowing their guns were no use against me. They fell back as I strode toward Bianca, the silver and carmine power within me seeking to be unleashed.

But my body wavered, and I stumbled to a halt.

I'd lost too much blood; was still losing it, to be honest. And while my body might have been filled with power, it lacked the strength to do what needed to be done.

As I quickly tried to recover, to keep them from seeing my weakness, a man appeared from a side door. He introduced himself as Duke Paulo Ortega. An official of some kind with the Red Court, come to give me warning. The power within me raged, but I held it back as he spoke.

War, they warned me, with knowing smiles on their lips. If I continued, it would be war between the White Council and the Red Court. I would be guilty of a grievous violation of the Accords, and the Red Court would have no choice but to declare war on the Council as retaliation.

Their words chilled the blood-lust in my heart. I wanted nothing more than to tear them apart with the power at my disposal. But my eyes fell on what was left of Susan Rodriguez, and I wondered what exactly I would be fighting for.

I had failed.

Susan was dead. For all intents and purposes, the woman I loved was gone, replaced with a monster of my own making. Maybe if I'd been clearer about the danger, she wouldn't have come. Maybe if I'd somehow been able to get through to her, I could have prevented her transformation, and Justine's death.

Vengeance would be sweet, and just. But would it be worth all the bloodshed that would follow?

The look on Bianca's face when I accepted her offer was almost enough to make me lash out. The room trembled for a moment as my rage warred just beneath my skin. I saw her smile falter, and perhaps that was enough to abate my anger for a time.

I turned, knowing that I was doing the right thing. I was sparing lives. My own, for sure, if I could get medical attention fast enough. The Council members, certainly, for there would be no war fought over my pride and embarrassment.

And perhaps Susan's as well. I had to convince myself of that as I stumbled from the mansion, my legs weak as death worked its way through my body. Perhaps in time I could find a way to reverse what had been done to her. Bring her back from whatever hell she now lived because of me.

And perhaps I could have, given time. But time was one of many things I would not have, as the consequences of my choices finally crashed down upon my world.

* * *

I made it to the hospital. The doctors worked their own form of magic, and did what they could for me. It was a short and miserable stay, but I survived.

The Carpenter child did not.

I don't know if there was anything the doctors could have done. Something had happened to the boy when the Nightmare attacked. The boy should have been free of it when I killed the ghost, but the baby never recovered.

Perhaps too much of the Nightmare still survived. Perhaps it was my fault, for letting that darkness thrive within me, rather than letting it go. But I was hurt, and afraid.

The darkness that had been Kravos stirred within me for a long time.

Charity certainly took no hesitance in blaming me. I had brought violence upon their house which Michael's Employers could do nothing about. Free will had guided Michael's hand in befriending me, and that same free will bound those that might have helped the faithful.

And so Michael and Charity left the hospital days before I did, to mourn their loss.

They weren't the only ones.

Thomas visited me at the hospital, to hear what had happened to the girl he loved. I could see it then, when his eyes grew dead at the word of her fate. In whatever way a White Court vampire could love one of its victims, Thomas had loved Justine.

I couldn't tell him what happened. I lied, making up some story about the others killing her before I'd even arrived. It was a lame attempt, and he knew it for the lie that it was.

But I couldn't tell him it had been Susan. Not if I wanted her to continue on as she was, in hope that I would be able to get her back. A White Court vampire might not have the raw strength of the Reds, but I knew that Thomas would hunt her down and seek vengeance of his own.

And so I lied. I lied, and he knew it. And then he left.

I thought Charity's hate, Michael's pain, and Thomas' disgust would break me. It nearly did.

But then Bob arrived with the news that would change my life forever.

The word was out. The White Council had declared me a warlock. I barely made it out of the hospital before several Wardens arrived, looking to take my head. I was stunned, and scared, and felt betrayed in a way that I hadn't since my old mentor Justin had turned on me.

It didn't take long for me to learn what had happened. The White Council had received surveillance footage of my attack at Bianca's party. My furious, magic fueled attack that had lain waste to many that had still been in attendance.

Some of whom turned out to be human.

I had killed with magic. I had used the essence of life to bring death to mortals.

Again.

And the Council wanted my head.

I had known it was a possibility, of course. After the party, when Michael and Thomas and I had been planning our raid, I had pushed the worry aside. I tried to convince myself that only the vampires had remained as I'd unleashed those frenzied flames upon my enemies.

But now came the proof that I had killed with the fundamental tool of life. And no-one was willing to hear my side of the story. That it had once more been in self defense, as I tried to do the right thing, did not matter. It would not even fall upon deaf ears, for I would not be given the time to utter my excuses.

And so the Council began to hunt me. And I began to run.

Michael offered to help me, of course. That's who he was. It didn't matter that I was a killer. It didn't matter that his child had died, quite possibly because of me. Michael was a friend, and offered me aide when I was in need.

I declined.

As tempting as his offer was, I knew it wouldn't do any good. Michael would defend me from the Council, but it would cost him his life. As powerful as his faith was, he couldn't stand against the Council. Not when in his heart of hearts, he knew that I deserved what they sought to do.

And so I ran. Alone, save for Bob, I ran, with the Council on my heels.

I wasn't there when Charity raged at Michael for offering to help me even after everything that had transpired. I wasn't there when their marriage almost fell apart, and their faith was tested because of his friendship with me.

I wasn't there when Murphy finally came out of the sleeping spell. I wasn't there to help her understand, or aide in her recovery from such an abusive and intrusive attack.

I wasn't there, because I was fighting for my life.

The Council was convinced that I was beyond redemption. That I should be put down like a dog that had bitten its owner one too many times. That I was a warlock that killed innocents without any remorse.

They were wrong. I wasn't that man.

Not yet.

There were many things I regretted in those first days on the run. Looking back, I wished I'd finished Bianca when I had the chance. If I'd fought her, maybe the tapes wouldn't have been sent. Maybe if I'd laid waste to her and her house, they would have been destroyed.

I wished that I had a second chance to save Justine. Maybe if I had taken her advice, and left Susan alone in the dark of the basement, we could have escaped.

I wished that I could have done something for Michael and Charity's child. I wished that I could be there for them, and for Murphy, when she faced the darkness of her mind.

But of all the things I regretted, one stood out more than any other.

I wished I had one more chance to tell Susan how I felt. To tell her what she deserved to know, even if it didn't make a difference. Even if they were the last words I ever said.

To say three simple words that aren't so simple after all.

I'll let you guess which three.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The Dresden Files is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

Disclaimer: The Book of Shadows image is used with the permission of Alex Libris of AlexLibris Dash Bookart Dot Com

Summary: The story resumes during the events of _Summer Knight_ _…_

* * *

Chapter 04 - Winter Knight

It rained toads the day the Wardens of the White Council finally ran me down.

Almost eight months had passed since I'd been declared a warlock. Eight months of pain and suffering, of rage and hate, of blood and death.

I had given up _everything_ for them. I had chosen _peace_ for them. I had spared countless lives avoiding a war with the Red Court. I had refrained from delivering the justice that Susan Rodriguez and Justine deserved, all for the precious Council. The Council that had treated me like a monster from the moment they learned of me. The Council that had hounded me and harassed my every step for nearly a decade, just waiting for me to slip up.

And when I finally did, eight months earlier, they came for me.

And when they came, I fought back.

I fought for as long as I could. But it couldn't last forever. Not alone. Not when you have the combined might of the White Council's Wardens hunting you. Not when you have assassins hired by the Red Court tracking your flight from justice, as Baroness Bianca St. Claire grew more frustrated each day that I survived.

No, it was always a losing battle. A futile battle. No-one can fight such odds forever.

It was eight months before they finally cornered me. Eight long, hard, dark, cruel, vicious months. Eight months of savage fighting, of desperate escapes, of necessary deaths. I'd barely managed to kill the latest assassin Bianca sent after me, a ghoul with her own cadre of mortal gunmen, before the Wardens finally cornered me that same night. Had me dead to rights.

And that's when she came.

When once more I faced sure death, with no hope of escape, she came.

The Queen of Air and Darkness.

She came to me then, when I was wild and savage and desperate. When I was moments from death's door, and had no other choice.

She made me an offer.

It was an offer in name only, as I had no choice but to accept. An offer that would protect me from the Council for a short time.

And so I did what I'd learned to do.

I survived.

* * *

Something was amiss in Faerie.

Had I not been so distracted with petty things such as fighting for my life, I might have noticed the unnatural weather. The unbearable heat; the mid-summer hail storms; the amphibious rain. I was too busy to care, up until it became my only care in the world.

Queen Mab, the Unseelie Queen of Winter, needed an emissary. Someone to act on her behalf on a matter between the Courts. If I agreed, then I'd be safe from the Council until the matter was resolved. After that, I'd be on my own again.

I was reluctant to put myself into any further debt with the Fae. My deal with my godmother years earlier still haunted me. I said as much to the Queen, intending to refuse.

That's when she made me stab myself in the hand with my own knife.

It seemed that my godmother had sold her debt to Mab. What I owed, I know owed to the most wicked and evil creature amongst the darkest beasts of Faerie. And with that hold over me, there was little I could do.

She made it appealing, at least. Her offer was a way out from the debt. Three favors fulfilled, and I would be my own man again. If I acted as her emissary, it would fulfill the first of the favors. And as a bonus, I'd be free of the wardens for a time.

With said wardens literally at the door, I accepted. And Mab took me away, just moments before they crashed through.

As we went, Mab explained that someone had killed the Summer Knight. She tried hedging the facts, but I wasn't having any of it. According to her there was little time to waste, which meant I wasn't going to waste time figuring out what exactly I was supposed to be figuring out.

She didn't seem too broken up about the fact that the Summer Knight was dead. The only thing that seemed to bother her was that the culprit had absconded with the Summer Knight mantle in the process.

The Fae Courts were in an eternal struggle against one another, and yet desperately clinging to the balance between them. With the mantle missing, the balance was in danger of causing war between the Seelie and the Unseelie. And while Mab seemed ready to go to war, she was not ready to do so under the presumption of guilt. She hadn't taken the mantle; that much was obvious. She wanted her name cleared.

It was up to me to see that it was.

* * *

My first priority, after bargaining to save my life, was visiting my grave.

Nearly eight months earlier, Bianca had given me a gift: a tombstone with my name on it. There was a matching grave that was kept prepared for my imminent arrival. Both were supposed to have been put to use long ago, and my avoidance of that fate was a constant thorn in the vampire's side.

If she'd known just how many nights I'd spent curled up in the sodden earth, my restless sleep tormented by nightmares, she wouldn't have been quite as vexed. Or who knows, maybe it would have made things worse. Women are hard enough to understand before they're turned into bloodthirsty bat monsters.

Either way, I'd lost my home, office, and car long ago. The last to go was the Blue Beetle, my trusty steed that ended up submerged in Lake Michigan.

Don't ask. It's still a touchy subject.

Long gone were the rest of my possessions; my blasting rod had been destroyed in a duel with a Warden, and my staff had snapped in two across the back of an assassin that had gotten the drop on me - -again, literally. Other things I'd made for myself over the years had been either destroyed, lost, or bargained away for necessities.

My magically enhanced duster was still in one piece, although I was finding less and less time to refresh the spells on it. I also had my shield bracelet and pentacle amulet, both of which came in handy against the more supernatural threats. As for offensive weaponry, I was down to just a knife freshly soaked in my own blood, and an empty .40 caliber hand cannon that had spent the last of its payload on the ghoul.

The only other thing I'd managed to hold on to was Bob.

Bob was entirely too valuable to cart around with me everywhere I went, which is why I needed to find a safe place to store him away. Somewhere no-one would think to look; a place that would be out-right avoided once I put the proper wards in place.

Hence the need to visit my grave.

Only a couple hours after meeting Mab, I dug up the old Spirit of Intellect's skull and grilled him on the Sidhe Courts.

Bob had confessed long ago that he was on the run from Mab. He hadn't come clean on exactly what he'd done to be the focus of such a powerful creature's ire, but I knew he was desperate to stay out of her reach. The spirit told me about the balance of power between the Courts, and then promptly asked to be buried again.

While he wasn't exactly volunteering to help, he did provide the information I needed. There were two Courts: Winter and Summer. Each had three Queens in their hierarchy: A Lady, who remained closest to the mortal world and its affairs; a Queen, that oversaw the Seelie and Unseelie Courts and all of the monsters that called them home; and the Mothers, a pair of elder Sidhe that hardly anyone ever saw.

From what Mab had described, and what Bob hastily explained, it was obvious that the six Queens were the most likely suspects to have stolen the Summer Knight mantle.

His info was helpful, but out of date. He hadn't been among the Sidhe in quite some time, and didn't know much about the current state of affairs. That meant that come morning, I'd need to find out more about them, and the man at the center of the mystery: Ronald Reuel.

* * *

The first thing I did the next morning, after crawling out of my grave, was to call some old friends for help.

After a short wait, a driver arrived in an old beat-up AMC Gremlin. I might have found their choice of vehicle amusing, if it weren't for the complete lack of leg room. The thing was designed for people closer to six feet than seven, which meant that I was all sorts of twisted by the time I arrived at the Full Moon garage.

Earlier in my life, back when I'd tried playing at being Wizard, P.I., I'd had some bad experiences at the place, and the people that ran it. It'd been the base of operations for a sizable local gang calling themselves the Streetwolves.

The name was more than just hyperbole; the members were actual lycanthropes.

Unlike theriomorphs, lycanthropes don't transform into animals. But where shape-shifters physically become beasts that retain human intelligence, lycanthropes remain human, but take on a beastly rage that augments their strength, speed, and ferocity. Think Wolverine, only no claws, and arguably better bathing habits.

When I'd first met the Streetwolves, things hadn't gone well. I'd been pointed in their direction by people that wanted me dead, and the gang had been more than willing to oblige.

But almost two years had passed since then. Those that had run the gang were long since dead, and their numbers had slowly dwindled.

The pack, if one could call it that, was still around. There were only six actual lycanthropes in the gang, along with a handful of vanilla mortals that had joined up.

While I might have hesitated to associate myself with known criminals, beggars can't be choosers. I'd been on the run when I first crossed paths with Sía MacTire, the woman that had taken over the gang after Parker and his lieutenants had been torn to pieces by hexenbelt-wearing assholes.

Sía was the alpha of the struggling Streetwolves. Between the Red Court expanding their influence in the city, and Gentleman John Marcone maintaining a death grip on the mortal criminal element, the gang was hard-pressed to remain independent.

So, the Streetwolves and I came to an understanding. They supplied me with what I needed to survive, and I helped out now and then when I wasn't busy staying alive.

When I arrived at the Full Moon garage that morning, Sía wasn't in. One of her lieutenants was, and grudgingly passed over the things I'd requested when I'd called ahead. Their doubtful look as they handed me the duffel bag confirmed that my requests had been odd.

I didn't have anything to pay them with, so I could only hope I'd come up with something once the favor to Mab was fulfilled. If not, the mortal debt might be just as deadly at the immortal one.

With the tools I could gather on short notice, I took the Gremlin and bag of supplies, and set out for Ronald Reuel's apartment.

* * *

The Streetwolf I'd met with had looked up Ronald Reuel online, something I never could have done for myself. A cop the Streetwolves had bought off sent over their report on Reuel's death, which my friend bundled with a copy of the man's obituary. With his funeral scheduled for later that day, I made my way to his apartment building, where the aged artist had met his reportedly mundane end.

There wasn't much to the crime scene. I'd expected something more, like burned out hallways and shattered doors. Bob had warned me that both Knights of the Courts were formidable, but from the look of it, the guy had broken his neck falling down a flight of stairs. Not an impressive way to go, to be honest.

Either Bob was wrong, or there was a lot more to the case than what the police had turned up.

There was nothing to be found in the stairwell where Reuel had died. I checked for residual magics, but there was nothing telltale. A sense of hot and cold lingered, and I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Next up was his apartment.

It was decorated like the old man had been living an opium-laced dream of Doyle. The space was filled with rich carpets and dark woods, but was downright void of anything even remotely modern.

I rummaged around, looking for any indication as to what he'd been up to prior to his death. There was little in the way of personal affects, but I managed to turn up a photo of the man with some kids. Friends, perhaps. If so, I had a good idea where they might be later that day.

It was just as I was about to leave that the door rattled in its frame. It wasn't the curious knock of a neighbor, or the forceful knock of the police coming to investigate a reported intruder. The thundering cadence was almost careless, as if the person knocking had forgotten just how hard someone was supposed to bang on a door.

With little to show for my visit, and no alternative means of exiting the apartment, I decided to see who had come a'calling on the victim.

When I opened the door, I found a behemoth of a man waiting. His fashion sense was a good half century behind modern, which was the first clue that he wasn't on the up-and-up. I'd met my fair share of mobsters, but hardly any of them actually tried to mimic the Rat Pack's look.

The man that I wasn't quite sure was a man stood a good seven feet tall, with what I assumed must be a neck somewhere between his meaty head and beefy shoulders. There wasn't any part of his body that I'd even consider calling 'svelte', as it consisted of muscle-laden muscle.

To say that he was dissatisfied with finding me in his dead friend's apartment was an understatement.

He took a swing at me, but I'd spent too many months at the ready to be caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. My well honed reflexes saw me out his reach, and I sent a bare-handed kinetic spell at the desk in the apartment's entrance hall. The heavy wood furniture crashed into the man, but rather than breaking him, it broke in half instead. He let out a ferocious bellow of pain at the blow, but somehow remained standing.

It took me a few seconds to realize that it wasn't the desk that had hurt him, but the metal letter opener that had flown with it. It was embedded in his arm, impossibly deep for such a light impact.

The only reason it would cut that deep was if it was made of steel; iron products have that effect on the Fae.

I'd suspected as much, but it was reassuring to get confirmation before I trained my .40 caliber on him. I was glad I'd bothered to load it with some of the rounds the Streetwolves had provided before entering the apartment. The roar of the gun was deafening in the enclosed space, as was the indignant follow-up bellow that the man unleashed as his true form was revealed.

The narrow entrance hall seemed to get smaller as the man's flesh and clothing rippled, revealing the form of a full-fledged ogre. What had been a mostly-human shade of skin gave way to something more ruddy. By the time the ogre was done growing, it stood twelve feet tall, a good portion of which was hunched beneath the ceiling. A pair of beady eyes stared at me with indignant hate as the massive Sidhe charged.

A glance confirmed that my pistol, despite its stopping power, had done little to slow the beast down. The rounds should have had _some_ impact. But all it'd done was piss off a beast that could twist my head off like I could open a bottle of Coke.

The rounds weren't entirely wasted, though. There'd been a flicker of something around the ogre's chest, something that made me suspect there was some sort of glamored armor, even if I couldn't see it.

I had little time to prepare before the ogre was on top of me. As he hit, my free hand pulled a squeeze pump from my duster's pocket. The pump was from a handheld tire inflater, and isn't an impressive weapon to look at. I'm sure the ogre thought I was an idiot for bringing a silicone weapon into a fight.

But appearances can be deceiving. As the ogre tackled me to the floor, I squeezed the pump into his open maw. His outraged roar turned into a panicked gurgle as a cloud of metal shavings filled his lungs.

The massive form pulled back as he clawed at his neck. I watched his skin erupt into blistering sores, tucking the gun away as I withdrew the crowbar hanging from the loop in my duster. Making sure I held it by the tape around the straight end, I channeled some power into the steel weapon as I reeled back. The metal began to glow softly as it swung around toward his head.

When the ogre looked up, his breath still haggard from the metal shavings, it was to find a scalding bar of iron swinging down at its skull.

I won't bore you with the details of the rest. Suffice it to say that Sidhe and red-hot iron do not mix.

I _will_ say that I gave the beast an opportunity to talk. About half way through my assault, the ogre's second glamour fell, revealing his true form. It seemed the ogre was nothing more than a disguise for a more regal looking Sidhe, one with bright feline eyes and pale, straight hair that had quickly grown slick with its pale, inhuman blood. He was no doubt in service to one of the Queens, based on the fine cut of the clothing and armor that disintegrated under the touch of hot iron.

Whoever he was, he remained loyal to his liege until the end.

Frustrated with not learning anything from my attacker, I left the apartment to continue my investigation. Alarms started ringing as the smoke from a quickly spreading fire spilled out into the hallway. I joined the rest of the tenants as they evacuated, leaving the quickly deteriorating body of the dead Sidhe behind.

* * *

A few hours later, I watched the parade of mourners enter the funeral home for Ronald Reuel's wake, comparing the faces I saw with those in the picture.

It seemed like a long-shot that they'd know anything, but I had time to kill. I'd spent the morning putting things into motion, and could do nothing until my efforts came to fruition.

In the meantime, I watched for the kids in the picture, and kept an eye on the tail I'd picked up leaving Reuel's apartment.

Eventually three of the four kids arrived. The pretty girl was missing, but there was no doubt that the other three were the ones from the photo. Especially the hulking girl that had a future in professional wrestling.

Deciding to take a chance since my contact hadn't gotten back to me, I made my way toward the funeral home. I checked on the car I'd spotted, but the passenger remained out of sight. Whoever it was could wait.

The wake was modestly attended. It seemed the man was known in certain artistic circles, and the conversations I overheard were about mundane concerns regarding the value of his works. If Mab hadn't told me the man had been the Summer Knight, and if the Sidhe hadn't attacked me in his apartment, I would have had no reason to believe Reuel was anything more than a crappy artist. But like I said; appearances can be deceiving.

After a while, an opportunity presented itself, as the trio I was interested in made their way out of the viewing hall. I followed at a distance, and Listened as they whispered harshly at each other.

The three seemed concerned about something, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with Reuel. Instead, it was about a fourth individual that I guessed was the pretty girl in the photo; a friend of theirs that was apparently missing.

I'd all but convinced myself that they knew nothing of interest, right up until one of them mentioned that they'd spotted me back in the hall. That seemed to light a fire under the others, and the trio made a hasty exit down another hallway and out a side door.

If they knew enough to know about me, then they likely knew something about the Summer Knight. I moved quickly to follow them out, and was only mildly surprised when I exited to find one of the guys holding a gun on the door.

A burst of power set him flying, the gun clattering to the alley floor as the large girl charged me. She was brawny, especially compared to the two guys with her, but I wasn't concerned. As large as she might have been for a mortal, she was nothing compared to the ogre I'd just beaten to death.

Another burst of kinetic power took her legs out from under her, and she hit the trashcans hard. The third looked like he was ready to run, but froze when I pulled my pistol.

The first guy, named Ace based on the desperate whisper of the other, tried to retrieve his own weapon, but a sharp kick to his side slowed him down. The large girl was the next to rise, but the sound of the pistol's hammer clicking back made her freeze as well.

I was quite suddenly the center of their world, and I could tell the skinny one was going to spill everything he knew. I like to think that I would have gotten some answers from the three of them, had I not felt the sudden surge of magic building up behind me.

Having spent months on the run, I was well accustomed to detecting other magic users in my vicinity. The power build-up was subtle, but not enough to escape detection.

I spun around, my gun moving toward whomever was preparing a spell. But it had already been cast before I was halfway around, and I heard the clink of metal as a chain wrapped around one ankle before a shocking pulse of electrical energy shot through me.

My finger squeezed the trigger, getting off a wild shot that missed everything but the wall. As it impacted, my back hit the alley floor. The electric-based attack was short-lived, so my senses started recovering after only a couple seconds.

It was enough time for me to see the three kids taking off down the alley, but my attention was instead focused on the wizard that slowly stepped forward, her hands raised in a cautioning gesture as she stared at the blazing ball of fire I'd almost unleashed at her.

Part of me was still reeling from the electrical attack. Part of me was still changing gears, from concerns about the Sidhe situation to ones about the White Council not having called off their hunt.

The rest of me was too busy wondering how the hell I was staring at a living, breathing Elaine Mallory.

* * *

Everyone has a first for each thing in their lives. Their first friend, their first kiss, their first lover.

For me, Elaine Mallory had been all of that and more.

Right up until she'd died.

To say that I was suspicious of her sudden resurrection, and subsequent return to my life, is an understatement. Especially considering that it'd been the better part of a decade since I'd last seen her, which had been in the midst of a burning building that I had assumed was the funeral pyre for both her and our adoptive father.

She had a convincing tale, to be sure. Having escaped the fire, she'd fled to Faerie, where she'd found safety in the service of the Summer Lady. She'd hunkered down in the Summer Court, avoiding the White Council and their Wardens altogether.

After enough time, I came to believe her story. I made her bleed for me first, and then made her confirm things only she could know. I was wary, but my gut told me that it was the truth; my long lost love was alive.

I should have been happy. I should have embraced her, hugged her, told her all the things I'd wished I could have told her years ago.

Instead, I felt an inexplicable rage building in my gut.

She looked good. Too good. She was well fed, well dressed, and well equipped. It seemed that being in the service of Summer was a pretty decent gig, all things considered.

She had everything I didn't.

Perhaps if things hadn't gone so badly for me, our reunion might have been different. Perhaps if I'd still been playing at being a professional wizard, I would have greeted her return with warmth and understanding.

But instead, all I felt was jealousy.

When I'd last seen her, she'd betrayed me. She'd turned me over to our adoptive father, our master.

And her reward for betrayal? A life of luxury among the Sidhe.

What did I get?

Persecution. Suspicion. Hate.

Death.

I'd spent years suffering under the unjust judgment of the Council, while she'd played house with faeries. And while I'd spent months on the run, doing anything and everything to stay alive, she'd lounged in surreal magical bliss.

So no, I wasn't happy to see her.

I told her as much. Maybe I should have controlled my temper, but there was a nasty side of me that wanted to rage at the injustice of it all. I tried to convince myself that it was something new, something born of the circumstances I found myself in. But that was a lie; it'd been in me all along.

As far as I was concerned, Elaine was dead. And I made sure she understood that if she interfered with me again, she _would_ be.

I wanted to leave it at that. Have the last word. Get the closure I'd always needed.

But it wasn't to be.

It seemed that Summer also had an emissary. Someone that was investigating things for them. Someone in their debt.

She explained that she'd been the one following me from Reuel's apartment. She'd been headed there to complete her own investigation when she'd spotted me among those evacuating. Then she'd seen me accosting the kids in the alley, and intervened when it looked like I was going to hurt them.

That peaked my fury. Had she not seen the gun the first kid had pulled on me?

No. Of course not. She was just as quick to judge as the Council. She'd attacked me while assuming my guilt, just as they had.

If anything made things clear, it was that.

We were, once again, on opposite sides. Just like we'd always been, and always would be.

Somehow I managed to control my rage; that scarlet fury inside of me that had been twisting and writhing ever since that night at Bianca's. I kept it inside, rather than unleashing it on her. Because I was still a good person, despite what everyone seemed to think of me.

I let her off with a warning: Stay out of my way, or she'd get hurt.

I don't know what she thought of that. I turned my back on her as I left the alley, all the while ready to do what was necessary, should I have to.

That was what I was doing. What I had to.

To survive.

* * *

A short time later, my contact with the faerie world finally arrived with the news I'd been awaiting.

Toot-Toot isn't what you'd expect of a faery. Or maybe he is. He had more in common with Tinker-bell than Mab, but that didn't mean he was all warm and fuzzy. If you thought he would be, you should probably take a refresher course on just how vindictive and cruel Tink could be.

Toot wasn't vindictive or cruel. Sarcastic and bitter, yes. But that was only because he'd been foolish enough to let a wizard learn his True Name.

I'd known him for years. Originally I'd lured him out with milk and honey. Later I'd used pizza, once I learned how much he and the other dew-drop faeries loved it.

But with lean times come lean measures. I still provided what I could for them, when I could. And Toot and a few of his brethren remained in my service, even if it was mostly because I'd bound them to me.

I wasn't proud of it. But I couldn't stay awake all of the time. I needed help, and couldn't always afford to pay the Streetwolves to watch my back.

If binding a small cadre of faeries into my service meant I could get a good night's rest every once in a while, so be it. It's not like they're human.

When Toot finally arrived, it was with the information I needed. Killing ogres and grappling teenagers was fun and all, but it wasn't going to get me answers. Only one thing was: meeting with the Queens themselves.

* * *

It seemed that the whole of Faerie had come to town. Both Ladies were there, which meant I wouldn't have to spend days or weeks trying to hunt them down. Toot had managed to make arrangements for the first meeting. He wouldn't be taking me himself, but another faery beholden to me would show me the way.

I was careful to load up on more of the supplies Sía's people had provided, and then I set out to meet the Winter Lady.

It seemed that the Court for the Winter Lady had set up shop in Undertown. Chicago has an impressive system of tunnels and warrens tucked beneath the concrete and steel. While homeless mortals claimed some of the space for themselves, the vast majority had been taken by the more unsightly beasts of legend.

As the tiny faery named Elidee led me to the Winter Lady, I prepared myself for the worst. I'd heard all sorts of sadistic legends about these creatures, and suspected most of them would pale in comparison to their actual cruelty.

A servant to the Winter Lady met us in the tunnels, and led us the rest of the way. When we finally arrived at the threshold to her domain, I found myself slightly nervous. I hid that under a dark glower as I forced my way in, and interrupted the faeries in their revelry.

Whatever I was expecting, it was most certainly not a ballroom party in the depths of Undertown.

The Sidhe all turned to me as I stormed in, letting my duster billow behind me. My stern gaze met their elegant and inquisitive stares as I cut my way through the crowd. I saw lots of gorgeous pale flesh on display, of every shape and size I could possibly desire. It was a room full of inhuman beauty.

And at the forefront, in all her glory, was the Winter Lady.

She looked like an adolescent copy of Mab, but lacked the Winter Queen's regal bearing. She was at once both too young and too old, with form fitting leather pants and a tight shirt that left little to the imagination. Her hair was a cascade of colored dreadlocks, each a different shade of darkness.

But while the Winter Lady might not have been regal, she had the thoughtless grace and sensuality of all the high Sidhe. As she rose, my eyes were hard-pressed to remain on hers.

I watched her as she played with some poor fool that had gotten in too deep with the Sidhe. A desperate musician that found himself unable to stop using the gift she'd given him. I watched as she paraded around him, a spider taking pleasure in tormenting the fly caught in its web.

My ever-present and simmering rage, stoked to new levels after seeing Elaine, threatened to break from beneath the surface as I watched her treat the poor sap as nothing more than a child's plaything. My teeth ground as the man struggled beneath the enchantment that was slowly killing him, painfully, agonizingly.

It was clear that Maeve intended to kill him.

My shot was a mercy.

Cold, furious eyes met mine as the man fell back. I'd ruined the poor thing's fun, and in front of her entire court, too. But I would be damned if I was going to sit there and let her torment the man to his dying breath.

And the scarlet rage inside settled for a moment.

For all that, the Winter Lady recovered quickly. The one thing that I'll say in Maeve's credit is that she knew how to have fun. Even if it was an act, she wouldn't let anyone ruin her day. Her fury gave way to crooked smiles that told the world that she lived for careless pleasure.

Even more, she knew how to offer it to others. Her words were sweetly cruel, her movements enticingly deadly, as she tried to distract me from my purpose.

She offered up a pretty thing to me, one that I might have been besotted with if I hadn't recently sated my desires with Sía.

Being intimate with a lycanthrope might not have been my first choice once upon a time, but I'd learned in the past few months that pleasure must be seized when it can be found. Susan was beyond my help, and a part of me knew that I'd never get her back. Hangups about casual relationships seemed a bit ridiculous when any day might be my last, and any night might not see the dawn.

I can only imagine what it would have been like, surrounded by all that enticing and promising flesh, if I were still the sad, desperate man I'd been before.

Perhaps I was cruel to be so dismissive of what the Winter Lady had to offer. But I was in no mood for such things. Between the encounter with Elaine and the Sidhe's stupid games, I was all but ready to set fire to the ballroom and watch the monsters run.

Instead, I reigned in that scarlet fury, and demanded answers.

If Maeve disliked having her fun ruined, it was nothing compared to her distaste for speaking plainly.

In short, the sadistic, manipulative, conniving Winter Lady was not my girl.

Embarrassed by my simplistic questioning of her, Maeve might very well have done everything in her power to punish me. Even though I was there under the authority of the Winter Queen, there were all sorts of things the bitch could do to make my life a living hell.

She would have started then and there if it hadn't been for the timely arrival of the Winter Knight.

My first opinion of Lloyd Slate was that he was a treacherous, murderous bastard. As he never gave me any reason to dissuade that opinion, I don't feel bad about it.

The Winter Knight strolled in with a cold confidence. His nod to me was respectful, but his eyes were not. Something told me that he'd heard of me, and knew what I was doing there. That suspicion was confirmed when he answered my questions with canned responses that meant nothing.

As a mortal, he was not bound to the truth the same way the Sidhe are. The man could have been lying through his teeth when he said he didn't kill Ronald Reuel, and I'd have no way of telling otherwise.

Not that I really suspected him. Yes, Bob had said that the Knights existed to counter each other. But if they had a fraction of the power he claimed, then it was highly unlikely that Slate could have killed Reuel without leaving a trace.

There were no signs of a struggle in the stairwell, and the police report had found no signs of resistance on the body.

If Slate pulled it off, it was probably one of the sneakiest murders of a Summer Knight that any Winter Knight had ever managed. It seemed unlikely that anyone but the six queens had the power necessary to do the deed, and since Maeve had already been scratched off my list, so too was her Knight.

After I was done questioning Slate, his attention turned to his Lady. It seemed he'd completed some task set upon him, and had returned with his spoils. I kept an ear out for any clues, just in case his mission pertained to my case. But other than a burnt knife, he had nothing to show or say of any use.

While I might have been disappointed in his lack of helpfulness, Maeve was downright livid. It seemed the blade had been put to use, but the blood on it was of no use to her in its current state.

I watched as Maeve finally focused her incensed fury on someone, and the Winter Knight fell to his knees in agony as a snowflake scar on his neck pulsed with power. I almost felt pity for the man.

The Winter Lady couldn't take out her displeasure on me or the dead musician, but she could certainly do as she pleased with the Winter Knight.

I didn't stick around for that. I had better things to do.

And besides, if I stayed, Maeve might have remembered that I was there.

* * *

The malk that had been dispatched to lead me in made no effort to help see me out, but that didn't matter. Elidee had memorized the way, and led me to the surface.

Returning to my car, I knew I'd have to wait until Toot returned with word of a meeting with the Summer Lady. Arranging my meeting with Maeve had been simple enough, given that she had to obey Mab's orders. But there was nothing forcing the Summer Lady to help me in my investigation, and she had every right to suspect my employer of starting the whole mess.

The process was simplified for me when I found Elaine dying in the passenger seat of the Gremlin.

It didn't take a licensed P.I. to put things together. Maeve, being the subtle creature that she is, had tasked Slate with retrieving the blood of the Summer Emissary. He'd done so with glee, and the wound she'd taken in the process looked pretty bad.

If she hadn't roasted the blade and blood with a fire spell, I had no doubt that Maeve would have worked her Fae magics on it. Perhaps she could have made Elaine spill whatever information she had turned up on the theft. Perhaps she could have subverted her to Winter's cause.

Instead, Elaine was dying, and there was nothing to be gained for it.

I stared at her as she lay there, bleeding. Pleading with me to forgive her. To help her stay alive.

I cursed the gods for making me fool enough to accept.

Despite my warning in the alley, she'd come crawling to me for help when she'd needed it. Despite knowing how hurt and betrayed I'd been at the idea of her hiding from me all those years, she'd come to me.

And despite my hatred for the woman, there was still a kernel of love for the girl.

And so I took her where she wanted.

Which happened to be exactly where I needed to be.

The Summer Lady had set up shop at the polar end of where Maeve had. With the Unseelie in the depths of Undertown, it made all the sense in the world for the Seelie to hold court atop one of the highest hotels in the city.

Elaine led me to a private elevator that led directly to the top. She assured me that the Summer Lady would be there, and would not only take care of her injuries, but answer my questions as well.

Which, unless you're a complete idiot, sounded entirely too convenient.

As worried as I was about her injury, I was more than tempted to dump her in the elevator and let her go up alone. Especially when we found a young Sidhe girl just coming off, one that could see to Elaine and relay my request for a meeting with the Summer Lady.

But despite my concerns, the young Sidhe swore that I'd be in no danger from those above so long as I behaved as a proper guest.

Taking her at her word, we went up. But I left Elidee outside, with specific instructions to get a message to Toot and Mab should I not come back out.

When the elevator doors opened, it was to a vast and impossibly dense forest set atop the roof of the hotel. The sounds of the city faded away in the distance, and I wasn't entirely sure we were still in Chicago.

The girl led us to a clearing in the trees that was astounding in its beauty. Hedges and lawn were pruned and trimmed with inhuman precision. Statuary bordered a path that weaved through the grass almost carelessly, while a bubbling creek twisted and turned through drops and waterfalls.

There were several creatures about, most notably a large centaur that seemed to take offense at my presence. The creatures of Summer could sense the lingering scent of Mab's power on my hand, where she'd staunched the flow of blood after making me brand myself. For a moment, I thought the girl was wrong, and that harm was most assuredly going to come for me.

Which meant I was a hair's breadth away from giving it right back.

Thankfully the Sidhe girl talked the centaur down, and the beast instead took Elaine from my arms. I didn't miss the hateful look that he sent my way as it turned, and I wondered if he met all of Winter's tools in such a fashion, or if I'd done something to set him off.

With Elaine taken from me, I was left to wonder where the Summer Lady was. The girl assured me that the Lady would see to Elaine in time, and would answer my questions.

Something about her words gave me pause. From my limited experience with my godmother, I'd learned a thing or two about Fae-speak. How they could lie with the truth. How their words were meaningless if you didn't interpret them correctly.

It was then that I turned my gaze on the seemingly young girl, and realized just who I was dealing with.

Seeing that her ruse was exposed, the girl shimmered with power, until I found myself standing before the Summer Lady.

There was no doubt in my mind as to her identity. First of all, she was the mirror image of Maeve. The two could have been sisters, save for their dress and bearing. Where Maeve was wicked and naughty, Aurora was innocence and purity. Her pale blond hair fell about her in a cascade, as did her innocent summer dress that still managed to distract with its glimpses of silken flesh.

The Summer Lady offered soft words, words of sympathy and kindness. Words that I was desperate to hear. In that garden in the sky, she offered to heal Elaine's wounds, and my own.

I can't say that I wasn't sorely tempted. I could see the peace and beauty of her Court, where Elaine had spent the last decade. I could see that the Summer Lady would offer me the same that she'd offered my first love. I could take shelter there with her, hiding away from the Wardens and assassins that sought me still.

But despite the temptation, I knew it was not to be.

She could protect me from all of that, but she could not protect me from Mab.

I was still her creature, and would be until after my debt was paid. There was nothing to be done for that.

With that cold thought freezing the momentary warmth I'd felt, I withdrew from the Summer Lady. They were tempting, her words. So unlike the things Maeve had promised, and yet even deadlier still for their beguiling innocence.

I hardened my heart, and declined. And then I set to my task.

It did not take me long to see the ensnaring webs in her words.

My questions were answered, but the answers led me nowhere. We danced back and forth, my heart growing cold as her soft words left me colder. Her assurances were nothing but wind, twisted and turned to sound full, but all the more hollow.

It was then that I realized that this was no girl I danced with. No youthful creature bent on ensuring peace between the Courts. That might be what she wished for, but she was an ancient being, one that would not, _could_ not give the emissary of Winter that which they required.

When I was done questioning her, I found that I was left with nothing but suspicion.

Perhaps I should have demanded answers of her, as I had with Maeve. She was not bound to my purpose as the Winter Lady was, but if refusing meant incriminating herself for a crime she hadn't committed, surely she would bow to pressure.

But a moment before I could demand the truth of her, a cold thought left me frozen.

It had been the girl that had promised me safe passage from those above…

While she herself had been below.

With that thought, my words died on my lips. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I had no protection from the Summer Lady herself. Should I press the issue, she might take offense.

And with the delicate intricacies of the Sidhe Courts, that might very well be enough for her to take my life.

Or worse.

I replaced my words with a wooden smile, one that the Lady couldn't help but notice. An alarmed look crossed her face with breathtaking speed. It was chased by a look of cunning, and resolution, before finally settling on a brittle smile.

Quite suddenly, my conference with the Summer Lady was concluded. She made promises to see to Elaine, and I made promises to do all I could to end matters peacefully. Her words were supportive, even if her look assured me that she doubted me up to the task.

She watched as I returned to the elevator, before turning her attention to Elaine. I was left looking out over the dark forest as I went, wondering if I had learned anything that was of any help.

Three Queens met, and I was no closer to figuring out who had taken the mantle. Time was running out, and so was my suspect pool.

And so I left, while fighting the growing sense of imminent failure, and the growing dread that my failure would cost me everything.

* * *

By the time I left Aurora's forest in the sky, the sun had fled, leaving Chicago shrouded in dark clouds. The storm was still brewing, and so far, I'd done little to stop it.

With some of my makeshift weaponry already spent, I decided to replenish my stores. I was fine on bullets, but I wanted more cold iron on hand if things were going to continue to get worse.

What I didn't want to do was have to depend on the Streetwolves for everything. The supplies they'd given me had been helpful, but other than the .40 caliber rounds, were nothing I couldn't easily pick up myself.

So instead of bugging them about my simpler needs, I went to Wal-Mart.

While the chain store might not be the first place to look for weapons of mass destruction, the auto and tool sections had more than enough steel between them to wreak havoc on any Sidhe that came calling for me. The outdoor section turned up some helpful items as well. I filled my cart with things that would help keep me alive, all while keeping an eye out for trouble.

It found me on isle 36, in the form of Lieutenant Karrin Murphy.

I wish I could say I'd been surprised at her appearance, but that'd be a lie. The short detective had been on my heels for months, following up on anonymous tips that I'd been responsible for the destruction at Bianca's mansion.

Which, to be fair, I was. It had been my magic that had set fire to her court. It had been my flames that had burned people, monsters or otherwise, as my friend Michael had dragged me from the place.

But being legally responsible for that seemed insignificant compared to the punishments that would be doled out by the Council and the Red Court. I'd spent a little effort keeping out of Murphy's reach, if only to make sure I wasn't sitting in jail long enough to let the other factions find me.

As soon as I saw Murphy, I knew I was in trouble. It seemed that someone fitting my description had been spotted at an apartment fire earlier in the day. That same witness had seen me flee in the Gremlin, which a patrol car had spotted pulling into the Wal-Mart parking lot.

Murphy had hard questions for me as I started tucking items away into the pockets of my duster. I made sure to pay attention, but took the chance to study her as she studied me.

The last I'd really seen of her, she'd been recovering from the spell that Kravos's Nightmare had cast on her. I hadn't been there to help her come through that, and the experience had quite obviously left her with scars. Even without meeting her eyes, I could see the pain in her aura, the rends on her spirit.

And for some reason, the scarlet rage inside me was thrilled with that.

I tempered those feelings as best as I could. I'd begun to suspect that the power I'd taken from Kravos's Nightmare had taken root in my own, and had tried fighting it off whenever I felt its influence on me. But it had come in handy when fighting for my life, and I'd let it worm its way deeper inside. It made it harder to ignore the feeling of pride it felt in seeing the harm inflicted upon my old acquaintance.

As she questioned me, I averted my gaze. Partly to avoid a soul-gaze, and partly to avoid her seeing my thoughts. Perhaps she thought it was a sign of a guilty conscience, because her hand drifted to rest on her side-arm.

I might have worried about that, but my focus wasn't on her. It was on the mist slowly creeping down the isle, as it enveloped everything around us.

Murphy reacted when she saw it, no doubt assuming I was to blame. Everyone blamed me, and she had always been quick to do so. But it wasn't my power summoning up a magical mind-fog that ensnared everyone it came into contact with.

The short detective's gun cleared its holster, and was rising in my direction, when the fog rolled over her. I watched as her eyes glazed over, a distant look becoming fixed upon her face.

It wasn't all that different than the one she'd had in her office, after the Nightmare had fiddled with her mind. And I wondered how she'd hold up with yet another experience with magic twisting her from the inside out.

But my concern for her was short-lived, as I concentrated on putting some power into my amulet. I pulled it from my shirt, and braced myself as the fog washed over me.

The amulet was cool against my shirt, but its weight reassuring. Static rippled across the metal as I focused on it being a symbol of my protection. The fog spread across me, a greasy cloying feeling that was foul and somehow familiar. But the spell failed to take root, and after a moment, I took a steadying breath.

Then, knowing that I had little time, I finished packing away what I could in my pockets, and ran for the doors.

Stopping to pay had been of little concern to me even before the mind-fog had rolled in. A hex would take care of the sensors at the doors, and it wasn't like shop lifting was going to be any worse than what the police already wanted me for.

But it seemed making my exit would be harder than I thought. A large form loomed in the fog, its details obscured from my vision. I wasn't about to throw down with something before I knew what it was, so I darted the other way. If I couldn't make it out the front doors, then I could always escape through the garden section.

The sound of hooves chased me, and I was barely through the doors before a fucking unicorn appeared out of the mist.

It was nothing like what I would have imagined. The spiraling horn on its forehead was razor sharp, and was stained with dry blood similar to that on its cloven hooves. Two horns, like what you'd find on a ram, curled to either side of its head. Its form was muscled like a Clydesdale, but colored like something from a nightmare, all shades of black and dark green.

The beast was massive, but managed to duck beneath the metal framed door easily enough as it lowered it deadly horn at me. I ducked to one side as I fished about in my pocket, pulling free one of my latest acquisitions.

As the unicorn spun around with unnatural speed, I let fly with a box of ball bearings. A well-timed Forzare broke the box into pieces, and sent the half dozen steel spheres at the charging animal.

They didn't hit at shotgun speeds, but they didn't have to. Not when the target was as vulnerable to the iron-based alloy as the Sidhe are.

The spheres shredded the skin of the unicorn as they embedded in its flesh, and its cry was loud enough to rattle the wire fencing that enclosed the garden section. It staggered, feeling the metal burning it from the inside as it thrashed about, its massive hooves crashing down hard enough to break the concrete floor.

Part of me was tempted to finish the thing, but the fog rolling out from the store convinced me otherwise. I didn't want to have to deal with both it and the beast at the same time; if my concentration slipped on my protection spell, the unicorn could skewer me at its leisure.

Instead, I retreated, looking for another way out. There had to be a pad-locked door somewhere that would give way. I ran further into the garden section, all while keeping a wary eye on the convulsing unicorn.

I should have been keeping a watch out in front of me. If I had, then the monster that loomed up wouldn't have caught me quite as unawares.

I turned as the shadow fell over me, reaching automatically for another weapon. But I froze at the sight of the massive creature made of earth and foliage. Young plants and dirt seemed to flow together under some power, until I was looking up at an eight foot plant creature with fiery emerald eyes.

I took particular note of its thick arms, packed tight with soil and roots, as it slammed into my side, sending me flying toward the fence. I hit hard, but was up and moving as one of the massive legs crashed down where I'd been.

Aside from the pleasure of knowing just how those hobbits must have felt when the Ents starting coming alive around them, it wasn't all that of a joyful experience being run down by one. I tried keeping some of the large steel shelves between it and myself, but couldn't move fast enough when it flung a grasping hand at me.

That the hand detached at the wrist, and hit me full on like a quarter-ton baseball made of mud and sticks, didn't seem fair.

I suddenly found myself pinned beneath the loose appendage, which somehow was still bent on crushing my chest as its branch-like fingers closed around me. I managed to work one hand free, and tried pulling myself away. My fingers closed on a segment of chain-link fence, the feel of the metal inspiring a desperate move.

With the one free hand, I tore at one of the branches that constituted the beast's fingers. After a brief struggle, I broke a piece off and pressed it to the fence. I tried to concentrate on the thaumaturgic spell, all while I watched both the Ent and the unicorn close the distance between us.

I might not be great at delicate magics, but I was good for two things: lots of bang, and thaumaturgic spells that linked items.

Right before the two Fae beasts reached me, I combined the two. Pouring power into the wood I held, I formed a bond between it and the chain-link fence. The spell turned wood and metal into magnets, drawn together through their link.

And with a massive kinetic spell helping it, slicing the metal bands that held it to its posts, the chain-link fence broke free and shot through the air toward the Ent.

That it caught the unicorn as well was just a bonus. The metal fencing wrapped around both of them head to toe, and wispy smoke burst wherever the baneful iron touched at their flesh. The Ent might not have been made of the same stuff as the unicorn, but the magics binding it were.

The plant monster collapsed into a heap of dirt and foliage as the power binding it disappeared. After a moment, only the unicorn remained. I managed to pull myself up as it thrashed, and watched as it transformed into its natural form.

I approached carefully as the centaur I'd seen in the Summer Lady's Court tried to break free of the fencing coiled around him.

Through his agonized cries, I questioned him, although it seemed unnecessary by then. I was fairly certain who was responsible, but couldn't be sure. There was always the possibility one or more of Aurora's entourage had betrayed her. And somehow I doubted the word of the Winter Emissary would be enough to convince Summer that its Lady had betrayed her own court.

When the creature wasn't forthcoming, I drew out the cooking skewers I'd tucked away into an inner pocket, while making sure the beast understood that things could get a whole lot worse. It still seemed reluctant, so I started slipping the steel rods through the fencing, and made with the toxic acupuncture.

After the first few, the centaur couldn't talk fast enough.

The creature confirmed that the Summer Lady had indeed conspired to kill her own knight, and had then trapped away the power of the mantle. It seemed she wanted others convinced that someone had stolen the power, rather than it returning to its rightful owners.

Before I could get any more answers out of it, a thin layer of frost began to form over the fence that had it trapped. As the ice spread, the metal lost contact with the fae creature, and the centaur began to heal before my very eyes.

Knowing I didn't have long, I slipped the camp axe from my pocket and removed the leather from its sharp edge. Before the centaur could break free, the axe rose and fell, its steel head glowing with heat as it cut through ice and fence to strike at the beast.

It eventually stopped kicking. I noted that I was covered in gore, but it was already beginning to dissipate in the hot night air as the creature's form broke down.

With the fence down, I walked out of the garden section, watching for the centaur's accomplices. But no-one, Lady or Wizard, challenged me before I reached the old Gremlin. Within moments, I was free and clear of the parking lot, leaving the supernatural carnage behind.

* * *

At that point I knew who had killed the Summer Knight. Why was still a question, and where the power had ended up was another. With time running out, I knew I'd need more than just a name. I needed something that the Winter Queen could use to clear her name, and relieve me of one debt.

There was no way I was going to be able to get close to Aurora now. With two of her retainers dead, the Lady would kill me on sight. Or have her pet wizard do it, if my guess was correct as to who had cast the mind-fog and ice spells.

With little choice in the matter, and few allies to call on, I did what I had to.

I called my Godmother.

It didn't take long for the Leanansidhe to arrive. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say she'd been close by, watching me for her Queen. She was entirely too pleased at our reunion, while I was cautiously reserved.

I quickly outlined what I'd learned. To my utter lack of surprise, she confirmed that it wouldn't be enough to convince anyone. In truth, all I'd established was that the Summer Lady and her minions had tried to kill the Winter Emissary, something within their rights after what Lloyd Slate had pulled with Elaine.

The centaur's partial confession would not be enough. Not with the power at stake.

I asked what Lea meant. So far I'd seen little to convince me that the power of the Summer Knight was anything of consequence. It seemed inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, and I didn't understand why everyone was worked up.

That's when my Godmother showed me what I needed to see.

It was the simplest thing for her to take me to the Never-never, and the battlefield that was being prepared. I watched in amazed horror, my Sight revealing the truth of things, as the power of the Sidhe Queens didn't just spread across the faerie landscape; it _made_ the land itself. It was power unlike anything I'd seen before, anything I could have imagined.

And at the center of it all was a table. A stone table, with ancient carvings etched into the sides.

It was the table, my Godmother explained, that was the center of the Sidhe Courts' power. Any power shed upon the table would flow to whichever Court held it at the time; Summer for half the year, and Winter for the rest. Summer held the table, but by the dawn of the solstice, possession would transfer to Winter. From then until the winter solstice, Summer would grow weaker. And without its Knight, it would be at a disadvantage.

The two Courts stood poised to battle over the table, all for the power of the Summer Knight. Titania believed that Winter had stolen the mantle, and intended to add it to their own power once the table passed into their possession. As such, she was preparing to defend it, to keep it out of Mab's hands.

It seemed Mab was not willing to let her warmer counterpart extend her reign over the table, and was prepared to take it by force if necessary.

While I might not have appreciated the power of the mantle at that time, I could appreciate the Queens' respect for it. If they were willing to kill each other over it, it must be powerful indeed.

But despite the circumstances, I still had no clue as to where the mantle was, or what Aurora intended. Starting a war between the Courts would do her no good, and would end as soon as it was discovered that she was in possession of the mantle. Likewise, her Court would be weakened in the meantime, and Mab's court would apparently only grow stronger as the seasons turned.

As much as she'd shown me, my Godmother didn't have the answers I needed. What I needed was to have a better understanding of the mechanics of the mantle. I needed to know where Aurora could have stashed it.

But with the Queens busy preparing to kill one another, and the Ladies both willing to torture and kill me rather than hear my questions, it left me with few options.

There was only one avenue remaining to me. If the Queens couldn't be bothered to postpone their war, then I'd just have to go over their heads.

Which meant I needed to speak to the Mothers.

* * *

Loath as Lea was to give me free aid, I convinced her that as a servant of Mab's, it was her responsibility to assist the Winter Emissary. I needed to speak to the Queens, and she could get me there.

My Godmother took me to the Realm of the Mothers, but wouldn't accompany me on the journey. For some reason she seemed reluctant to be in their presence, so she and the limo disappeared, leaving me in a field of spongy grass and ancient, twisted trees.

I could see a lone cottage in the distance, and set out on foot. It didn't take me long to get to the small structure. The building sat on a low hill, and was surrounded by a loose ring of stone obelisks. I approached slowly, unsure of what to expect.

As my fist rose to knock, the door swung open, revealing a single room shrouded in shadows, with scant light to illuminate the two occupants.

I stepped inside as as raspy voice instructed me to, and looked upon the Queen Mothers for the first time.

The two were mirror images of each other. Whereas one was old and hearty, the other was old and withered. Mother Winter was nothing more than a crone, all gristle and scowls beneath a dark cloak. Mother Summer was more mobile, wearing an apron and working at sweeping out the cottage with a pleasant smile.

The ancient Sidhe bandied about for a moment, as if they had all the time in the world. I wanted to cut them short, but knew either could likely kill me with a thought. If the Queens I'd seen forming the battlefield were any indication, the Mothers might be pure calamities of nature when enraged.

When they bode me speak, I did so carefully, asking them what I needed to know.

They didn't seem surprised by my revelation about Aurora. If anything, they seemed pleased that I'd figured it out. But when I confessed to not understanding why the Summer Lady would act against the benefit of her Court, the two grew quiet.

Instead, they led me to the answers I needed. It seemed that the power from the Summer Knight mantle would indeed pass to whichever Queen was closest upon its host's death. That confirmed that Aurora would have the means to take the power, but it didn't explain what she'd done with it.

The two Mothers seemed amused by my confusion, but helped me along. The mantle required a host; but if anyone else had been given the power, for example Elaine, then the other Queens of Summer would have known.

Which meant that the mantle must have a new bearer, but one that the Queens couldn't sense. The power of the mantle had been changed in some fundamental way that prevented them from knowing where it was.

Fae rules be damned, I still didn't understand, and the Mothers wouldn't tell me. When I pressed them, all they had to offer was a spell of immense power. One that would unravel any enchantment. One that would return the mantle to its proper form, should I cross paths with it.

And when I did, the Queens would sense it, and the truth would be known.

I asked if it doing so was necessary, but they assured me that undoing what Aurora had done was the domain of Winter. The Summer Lady might have locked the mantle away in some form, but she couldn't unlock it herself. Which meant, without the Unraveling, whatever Aurora was planning would fail. But it would also mean that the war would be fought, endlessly, as the power of the mantle remained locked away.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

With the Unraveling bestowed, the Mothers deemed my audience concluded. Events would unfold based on my actions alone. My hope that they would intervene with the Queens was shattered.

But as I left the cottage, I knew one thing for certain. Aurora needed that Unraveling just as badly as I did. Which meant she'd be coming for me.

* * *

I cut my way through the dark wood surrounding the hills of the Mothers' domain, watching out for trouble while waiting for my Godmother to return. I could have tried traveling the Ways to get out myself, but had no idea where I was in the Never-never. As it was a pretty big place, I wasn't sure where I might turn up. Even if their domain was attached to somewhere on Earth, it might be leagues away from Chicago.

So I waited, all the while wondering why my Godmother seemed to be taking her time.

Before I could find an answer, Aurora arrived, springing her trap.

The mist surrounding me took on a colder feel as the mind-fog crept in around me. It was just like the one I'd seen at Wal-Mart, and after feeling it for a second time, I was sure it had been cast by Elaine.

My face went slack as I felt the greasy spell wash over me. My shoulders sagged just as I'd seen Murphy's do in the store. To outward appearances, the spell had caught me unawares, ensnaring me in its numbing aura.

The air shimmered off to one side. When the veil fell away, it revealed Aurora and Elaine, both of whom slowly approached my slack form.

Before they could realize that the amulet on my chest was protecting me from the spell, I burst into motion, unleashing attacks on both of them.

I hit Elaine with an old binding spell our former master had taught us. Thinking she'd caught me off-guard, she didn't have her defenses up. I watched as her body was flung back, her limbs bound together as she toppled over. I'd made sure that her lips were similarly bound, to slow down her efforts at breaking free.

I knew I didn't have any spells that could hurt the Summer Lady. She was well out of my league, and anything I cast would likely be countered with ease. Which is why, instead of using magic, I cast the handful of metal gaming jacks into her face.

It was the best of what I'd stolen from Wal-Mart that I could fit in my palm. Standing there with my gun in hand would have put them on guard, as would anything else made of iron. But the jacks were small enough to go unnoticed, right until they were scraping across Aurora's flesh.

Even as her face twisted in pain and outrage, my left arm was moving up. I channeled power into my shield bracelet, focusing on putting up a wall between myself and the Lady before she could unleash her rage. My right arm was moving as well, drawing my gun from my pocket.

Long before I could take aim at her, Aurora hit me with her power. The force that slammed into my shield was fiery in its intensity. I could feel the magical wall buckle under it, even as I was thrown back through the air on the wave of power washing out.

The air seemed to burn as I hit the ground hard. I fired blindly in Aurora's direction, knowing she was still close enough to make it hard to miss.

The rounds flew at her, passing through the air that wavered under the intense heat. The temperature was incredible, and I flinched away even as I saw the rounds splatter against her Sidhe dress, the bullets melting amidst the blaze.

I rolled, trying to escape that heat while desperately trying to think of anything I could do to counter her. Her face was twisted with rage, her eyes two points of burning citrine as she screamed. The sound hit me like a wall of hot air, smacking me to the ground with enough force to knock my teeth loose.

As I struggled to breath in the desert heat, I desperately wished for something to cool the burning sensation that spread all across my body. I tried bringing my shield back up, but the power I sent into my bracelet felt as if it were sputtering and sparking helplessly.

Thankfully my prayers were answered as a footfall landed beside my head. I managed to turn, and saw a frosty boot only inches away. Looking up, I found the leather-clad form of Lloyd Slate looming over me, his skin and clothing covered in a thin layer of frost that smoked under the Lady's power.

I had only a brief moment to hope that Maeve had figured things out, and had sent her Knight to help her Emissary, before Slate looked down at me with a look as cold as his skin. I felt a flash of chagrin as I recalled the ice that had aided the centaur, and my foolish belief that it had been Elaine casting a spell. I should have known it wouldn't be that simple.

My lips started moving, trying for one last ditch effort at saving myself, before his kick took me in the side of the face.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

The sound of urgent voices greeted my return to the land of the conscious. After a moment, I got my eyes open, and found myself hanging from one of the old twisted trees in the dark Never-never forest.

My arms were splayed out to either side, where thick vines drooped down and wound around my forearms. More secured my waist and legs, and as I struggled against them, I quickly realized that I wasn't going anywhere.

I tried summoning some magic into myself, but found that I couldn't draw anything in. When I looked, I spotted the ring cut into the turf a couple meters away from the tree trunk.

Things didn't get better as I checked myself over. The others had removed most of my clothes, as well as all of my gear. I could see the burnt remains of my shield bracelet lying next to my pentacle and the remaining collection of weapons on the ground. My leather duster, boots and pants were all strewn about. The pockets had been turned inside out, from where the three had searched for the Unraveling.

Elaine was the first to see that I was awake. She couldn't meet my eyes, which I'm sure were clear windows into my burning hatred for her. She turned away as the others approached, taking care to remain outside of the circle.

It seemed the only reason I'd been spared was because they couldn't find the Unraveling. Knowing they'd be coming at some point, I'd stashed it away in the dark wood. It was close at hand, so that I could retrieve it when my Godmother arrived.

That precaution had paid dividends. And irony of ironies, the Lady was much closer than she'd guessed.

I laughed as the Summer Lady explained herself. She tried to use honeyed words to convince me of her cause, but I wasn't having any of it. Her plan was to end the war between the courts by passing the power of the Summer Knight mantle to Winter. With the balance broken, one side could finally win, and the Sidhe would be at peace.

What she proposed sounded mad. From what my Godmother and Bob had said, the balance between the Courts was tied directly to the seasons of Earth. If one side grew more powerful than the other, then it could destroy the world humanity had created for itself.

When I told her she was crazy, she became incensed, and fell back on threats. As she grew more livid, her face flushed, and I noted a criss-cross pattern on her flesh. It looked remarkably similar to that of a chain-link fence.

It appeared my thaumaturgic link between the Ent and the metal had transfered at least partially back to the caster of the spell.

When she saw that my attention had drifted, her rage spiked. Perhaps it was because I'd hurt her. Perhaps it was because I'd killed her friends. Perhaps it was because I'd already begun spreading word of her guilt, which meant her plan was now on the edge of failure.

Whatever it was, the Summer Lady was pissed, but couldn't do a damn thing to me while I was in the circle. The same power that trapped me kept her power out. And if one of her mortal aides broke the circle, my access to the magic around us would be restored.

The scarlet power within me writhed, ready to be unleashed, but I told it to wait.

Instead, I focused my attention on the Winter Knight. I was surprised to see him working with the Summer Lady, and said as much. His reply was simplistic in nature; he wanted out from beneath Maeve's thumb. After her display in her court, I could understand why.

When I pressed him, Aurora moved in. I could tell she'd bent Slate to her will, making him hear and say whatever she wanted. The fool didn't even realize he'd traded one slave master for another.

The Lady grew tired of the game, and I felt the vines holding me tighten. That surprised me, as I thought I was cut off from her; but apparently the extensive spell had been laid before the circle went up. She retained enough of a connection to order the vines about, which moved under their own power.

I could feel one slip around my neck, slowly cutting off my air. But all I could do was laugh, which seemed to invoke more rage in the Sidhe. The ground trembled as the air around her began to waiver, her emotions manifesting through her power.

Our little dance might have gone on for ages, had it not been for Elaine.

The girl that had known me better than anyone recognized my humor, and grew suspicious. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she circled around the tree. I tried to keep my face impassive, but she spotted the knot hole anyway.

When the Lady realized she'd trapped me against the very same tree I'd stashed the Unraveling, her face twisted into a victorious grin.

I heard the vines around me slithering, reaching for the other side of the tree. I knew she was using them to pull the Unraveling from the shadowed hole in the wood, and that I was out of time. The other vines around me grew taught, her need for me disappearing as the Unraveling was pulled out.

It seemed my time was up.

As Aurora started to walk around the circle, I unleashed that thrashing scarlet rage inside me. Words I had not known nine months ago slipped from my lips, and the power lashed out in the form of crisp crimson light. Red blades of energy sliced at the vines holding me, freeing me from the confines even as they shredded at the tree itself.

I wasn't spared from it either, and could feel the sharp pain as half a dozen cuts blossomed across my flesh. But I did my best to block the pain as I dropped to the forest floor.

When my spell had been unleashed, it did more than free me. A band of crimson light had also cut the vine holding the Unraveling. The loosely woven fabric flopped to the base of the tree much as I had.

Realizing the prize was at risk, Slate darted in. But the fool was no mage, and didn't think about the circle cutting me off from any external source of magic. The Winter Knight charged through, breaking the wall around me in his hurry to retrieve the Unraveling.

As soon as I felt my access to magic restored, I unleashed more of the rage inside. A kinetic spell shot towards the pile of weapons, the magic laced with flashes of scarlet as it sent the collection of iron implements at the Summer Lady.

While she was momentarily distracted by that, I turned toward Slate, who wasn't prepared for my charge. He took my blast of force magic better than I would have thought, staggering in place rather than being sent flying like I'd hoped. The power seemed to ripple around the cold air surrounding him, and I wondered if the mantle had taken the brunt of it.

The man recovered quickly, drawing the samurai sword he wore on one hip as he rose. I shot one hand behind me, using the same summoning spell I'd used countless times on my staff to bring my knife to my hand. It landed in my palm as the the Knight charged, impossibly quick.

Nine months earlier I might not have survived. But that had been before the Council had sent wardens after me, each armed with their own enchanted blades. I'd faced several since then, and was more than ready for the amateur's swiping attack.

Using the knife blade to parry his strike, I thrust a palm at him, sending more foreign magic at him. Scarlet blades ripped at his leathers, cutting gouges into his skin as I twisted around his stumbling charge.

When I completed the turn, I stood behind the knight, my knife at his throat.

The Summer Lady, who had been approaching from the other direction, froze.

I could feel Slate bracing himself for an attempt to break free, so I slipped the tip of the knife into his flesh to discourage him. As soon as the steel broke the skin, the man gasped, sagging in my arms. It took everything I had not to kill him as he did, and wondered at the reaction.

With Slate as my hostage, I looked to the others. The Lady was still poised, waiting. Elaine was standing a pace away, the Unraveling in hand. When Aurora saw that she had it, something in her eyes shifted; her concern for Slate and myself fell away, as she now had the one thing she needed to complete her plan.

I warned her, telling her I'd kill her Knight if she didn't hand over the Unraveling. To prove my point, I twisted the knife-tip in his skin, eliciting an agonized gasp from Slate. I figured his pain tolerance must be low, because there was no way such a slight wound was causing that much misery.

When I threatened the man's life, the Lady just unleashed a curt laugh that chilled both myself and the knight I held. Even Elaine looked surprised as Aurora's arm rose. Slate's eyes widened as the Lady unleashed her power at us. In that last moment, maybe he realized just what a fool he'd been.

And then a wall of heat and flame hit us, knocking us from our feet. We both flew back, smacking into a tree a dozen feet away. My skull hit first, and once more the world faded to black.

* * *

The second time I came to in that forsaken forest, it was to find my doom waiting for me.

I could feel the weight of Slate's body lying across mine, and shoved at him, trying to get him to move. A glance confirmed that wouldn't be happening, as the knife I'd held to his flesh was now lodged deeply in his neck. I wasn't sure if I'd stabbed him reflexively, or if the spell Aurora had sent at us drove the blade into his throat. Either way, his eyes stared back like glassy marbles, still wide and disbelieving of Aurora's betrayal.

As I pushed the corpse off of me, I became aware of my surroundings. It looked like the ground around us had been scorched under an intense blaze. Even the tree we'd struck had blackened. By all appearances, it looked as if Slate had taken the brunt of the blast, sparing me from his fate.

I started to stand, but froze as I spotted another figure standing only several feet away. I looked up the length of the dark and lean form, feeling ice water run through my veins as I recognized who had found me in that dark wood.

I tensed as I stared up at the one-eyed face of the Gatekeeper.

As one of the members of the Senior Council, I knew the man had power. I'd seen him once or twice over the years, and had no idea what his abilities might be. But my old mentor, Ebeneezer McCoy, had spoken of the man in hushed tones. No push-over himself, I took that to mean the grizzled wizard held a respect for the Gatekeeper, something he bestowed rarely.

I knew without a doubt that the man before me could end me, just as surely as the Summer Lady would have if she'd realized I'd survived her attack.

The Gatekeeper surprised me by questioning me before taking my head. I wasn't sure what he was doing there, as hunting me down seemed below his pay-grade. Based on his questions, I guessed that he'd taken an interest in my conflict with the Summer Lady.

I explained what I knew. But even under his shadowed hood, I could see him react when I mentioned the table, and the stolen power. I could make out a faint flickering of light around his false eye, as if it were moving on its own. Which would have been impossible, except for the fact that he was a wizard and all.

I wasn't sure what it meant, but after considering my words, he didn't immediately kill me. As I stood, his good eye narrowed, and I wondered if he was reconsidering his decision to let me live. Before he could decide, his gaze widened, as it shifted over my shoulder.

When I turned, it was to find a bent form standing behind me. A cruel smile leered out from beneath the shadowed hood she wore, and once again I wondered if I was about to die.

I braced myself as the hood tilted back slightly, revealing the dark spark of Mother Winter's eyes.

The old hag of a Sidhe sidled closer, a pleased tilt to her leer as she looked over the fallen Winter Knight. Something told me she wouldn't miss the man.

The Gatekeeper surprised me with his courtesy to the ancient woman. And her reply, while terse and scornful, carried the barest modicum of respect for the old wizard. I realized that the Council member's presence in the dark wood might not be solely because of me.

I started to explain what had happened, but Mother Winter cut me off. Apparently she'd been watching our conflict, and was aware of my failure in protecting the Unraveling. Her disappointment was palpable, and I braced myself for whatever she might do.

But the old hag surprised me. She confessed that she'd monitored my efforts all evening. The crone had delighted in my handling of Aurora's people, appreciating the savage way that I went about my business. She had no love for fools or the Sidhe of Summer.

Instead of killing me, she did something else entirely.

She offered me a job.

Only after she asked did I remember what she and Mother Summer had said. That upon the death of a mantle bearer, the power would revert back to the nearest Queen of that Court. Which meant that when Slate had died, his power had gone to none other than Mother Winter. It was hers to bestow on the next champion of Winter.

And now she was offering the position to me.

As politely as possible, I refused.

I had no desire to get myself further involved with the Sidhe, and told her as much. Bargaining with my Godmother when I was younger had done nothing but complicate my life. Her meddling eight months prior had sent me in a tailspin of pain and suffering. And having spent a single day as Winter's Emissary, my life had been endangered at least three times already. As bad as things had been of late, that was still worse than I was used to.

To my surprise, Mother Winter seemed to enjoy my refusal. She slowly circled me, an amused cackle making the hair stand up on my neck.

As she paced, she pointed out that the Gatekeeper, as a Senior Council member, was sworn to kill me. I argued that my deal with Mab had bought me leave until the matter of the Summer Knight mantle was addressed, but she countered by observing that I had failed in that task, and did not have the means to see it through.

When I looked to the Gatekeeper, he seemed reluctant to confirm that he would take me in. But confirm it he did. With my failure imminent, my safety from Council justice would be over.

As I quickly tried to determine my odds of escaping one of the seven most powerful members of the Council, Mother Winter offered an alternative.

If I didn't want to be her Knight, so be it. Her primary concern was seeing that Aurora did not destroy the Summer Knight mantle. The easiest way of doing that would be to keep the power of the Winter Knight in play. Winter was at its weakest during the summer solstice, and only having an active Knight would the imbalance be addressed.

In short, she was offering me the mantle for one night only. By accepting, I'd be free from the Council justice until dawn, and would have the power necessary to complete my favor to Mab. After that, my fate would be left up to me.

I looked between the two powerful beings. One that was offering to escort me to my death; the other offering me power, and a chance to survive another day.

Between the two, there was no choice.

So I did what I had to. To survive.

As Mother Winter approached, it took everything I had not to run. There was something in her eyes that shone with dark foresight, assuring me that I'd made a horrible mistake. But I held fast as the old crone reached for me, her fingers curled and stiff as they pressed onto my chest.

No.

Not onto my chest.

 _Into_ my chest.

Her wrinkled hand passed right through my shirt, as if it didn't exist. It continued on through my flesh, a frigid sensation rippling across my skin at her inhuman intrusion. I could feel her icy nails as they crept through me, before my heart spasmed as she clutched it in her grasp.

Frost escaped from my lungs as I labored to breath. My body went rigid as the cold sensation spread across my entire body, my limbs shaking uncontrollably as an arctic wind blew across my soul. I didn't even realize I'd fallen to my knees until I found myself looking up at the crone, her eyes sparkling with a cruel mirth as something passed between us.

I'm not sure what it was. It wasn't just power. I'd taken power into myself before. When I'd consumed the power of Kravos's Nightmare, I'd recognized it as something akin to what I already possessed, if different in nature. A mortal power, perhaps darker and more twisted than what I was used to, but mortal all the same.

What Mother Winter gave me was Power.

A haze of blue light slowly swirled down from her shoulder, appearing from nowhere to creep along her arm. Its movements were serpentine, an undulating motion that worked its way forward within a frosty mist.

Pinpoints of cerulean light glinted at me as the thing grew closer, and if I could have spoken, I would have rejected her offer. I would have accepted my fate with the Council, all to keep that icy serpent away from me.

But my jaw was locked tight, and there was nothing to do but watch as it slowly slithered its way into my chest.

My heart seized as the power wound through me, wrestling with my own power as it made itself at home. There was nothing pleasant about the experience, and only a lack of breath prevented me from screaming.

And then, as that thing squeezed tight from within me, I could feel a pinching sensation. Its fangs struck at my heart, and I spasmed again. And again. And again.

The pain began to taper off as the pulses slowed, until there was nothing but an icy chill coursing through my entire being. I blinked frost away from my eyes, and looked to Mother Winter, my breath frigid in the mild air of the Never-never.

The crone stepped away, a victorious smirk gracing her lips. With the mantle bestowed, she seemed somehow less than what she'd been. Her posture was more twisted, more wasted, but I could sense the power within her. Power similar to mine, but infinitely greater.

Mother Winter nodded to the Gatekeeper, saying something about a stone. The man seemed reluctant, but withdrew a piece of stone from the folds of his robe. It hung on a string, although I noted it did not hang quite as straight as it should have.

The Council elder passed the object to me as I stood, his false eye shifting back and forth as he studied me. I took it, and then Mother Winter was telling the man to see me back to the real world.

I questioned her about the rock, but a crooked smile was all she offered in return. The Gatekeeper was the one to tell me it was a piece of the same stone table I'd seen earlier that evening.

Without having to ask, I knew the stone would lead me back to it. I breathed deeply, feeling the power of the mantle settle within me, as I realized not all hope was lost. I could still stop Aurora, and make good on Mab's debt.

As I grew acclimated to the feeling of the mantle, I went about gathering my things. The stone went into a pocket of my duster, along with the rest of the weaponry I'd brought. The crone wasn't keen on any iron remaining in her domain, and watched with a baleful eye as I retrieved the last of it.

As Mother Winter instructed, the Gatekeeper returned me to Chicago, before heading back for the crone. It seemed she didn't get out much, and would need a hand back to the cottage. I suspected that her mobility had something to do with possessing the Winter Knight's power; with it bestowed upon a new host, the old hag was less than what she had been, even if she was more than I'd ever be.

I wasn't sure what their relationship was, or why the Gatekeeper seemed to answer to her. The man shared whispered words of warning, assuring me that what Mother Winter offered was not salvation. That the freedom promised was nothing more than a gilded cage.

The man seemed genuine in his concern for me, more so than anyone else since Ebeneezer.

But I'd be damned if I was going to let the Council decide my fate. Not after everything they'd done to me. One act of kindness would not undo years of persecution.

And so I left, to finish what I'd started.

And after…

Well. After that, I'd consider just what Mother Winter was offering.

* * *

A phone call provided me with another ride, once again returning me to the Full Moon garage.

Sía MacTire met me there, curious as to what I'd mentioned on the phone. As I'd requested, she'd gathered the rest of her gang, who were all waiting to see what I had to offer.

Despite the power granted to me by Mother Winter, I knew I was still in over my head. Power or no, Lloyd Slate had died easily enough. I wasn't about to count on the mantle to see me through a battlefield of deadly Sidhe, where I didn't exactly trust either side to be looking out for my best interest.

Instead, I'd trust in the thugs and lowlifes I'd come to know over the last eight months.

Despite our casual relationship, Sía was reluctant to get her people involved in a fight like the one I was proposing. I had to make promises, promises I had no way of keeping. I might have inferred that my newfound mantle would come with benefits, which I could extend to the gang once I survived the coming conflict.

But those promises were lies. I had no intention of remaining the Knight. I'd just have to deal with the consequences once — _if_ — we made it out alive.

It didn't take the gang long to prepare. Within thirty minutes, over a dozen bikers were decked out with all of the cold steel they could carry. More traditional weapons accompanied those I recommended, all of which would hurt any Sidhe that crossed our path.

Before we headed for trouble, I had Sía drive us out to a park not far from the garage. I'd scouted the place before, looking for potential sources for materials. I knew the park had what I needed.

With the Streetwolves looking on, I placed my hand upon a great white oak. My old staff had been made of oak from a tree on Ebeneezer's farm, the same tree that had made his own staff. I'd never gotten around to replacing it, but with my blasting rod long gone, and my shield bracelet now useless, I needed something to remind myself that I was, in fact, a wizard.

I poured my power into the tree, letting it seep into the wood. Silver power, my own, weaving through the grain. Scarlet power, that which remained of the Nightmare, lancing through the wood like lightning. And dark sapphire power, that of the Winter Knight, splintering and cracking like ice through the oak. The three powers mingling, merging, shaping the wood to my will. Infusing it with the essence of magic.

Thunder rolled overhead as the ancient tree thrummed with power. The clouds rippled with lightning as a cold wind blew through the clearing. I could all but feel the unease rolling off the mortals and lycanthropes waiting behind me. Senses I didn't know I had told me that they were nervous as the branches shook and the trees swayed all around us.

As the storm threatened to break, I poured more power into the tree. I could almost imagine the clouds overhead swelling in response to my magic. The hairs on my neck stood up, an odd sensation tingling across my skin as I felt a tremor in the air.

And then the night grew bright, as an azure bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, splitting the mighty oak tree in two.

I might have flinched, but I wasn't alone. The ancient wood cracked as the trunk split, the two halves toppling to either side. I held still, hiding my own surprise from the others, as I looked at the shaft of pale wood that remained standing in the heart of the tree.

Slowly I reached for it, my fingers wrapping around the wood with a sense of familiarity. I could feel the power residing within, an echo of that which I had put into the tree. I pulled at the shaft, feeling a satisfying crack as the bottom broke free at the base.

The staff was easily six feet in length, and my fingers could just close around it. The surface was pale but blemished. The top was blackened from the lightning, with thin tendrils of scorched wood running the length of it.

A grin slowly grew across my face as I held the staff. It wasn't finished by any means. It took a lot of work to properly prepare a wizard's staff, and it would be months of work before I'd deem it finished.

But for too long I'd been without one. For too long I'd been helpless, re-sourceless, powerless to escape that which stalked me. It had been months since I'd felt like a wizard. Like someone worthy and capable of wielding the power of life, shaping it with my will.

Those days were over. My days of running were over. My days of desperately clinging to life were over.

I knew, as I took up that staff, that I had an impossible fight awaiting me. One that I'd be hard pressed to survive.

But if I went out, I'd do so on my terms. Not as a warlock, or a target, or a fugitive.

No. I was none of those things.

I was a wizard.

And it was time I reminded the world of that.

* * *

The stone led me to the waterfront, and a longer finger of land that stretched out into the lake. I'd been to that same place earlier that evening, calling on my Godmother for help.

When we got there, the stone indicated that we should continue out over the water. That seemed perfectly impossible, even in a world full of magic. I stared at the stone, wondering what it was trying to tell me. It wasn't pointing down, or straight out, as if I needed to open a portal to the Never-never.

Instead, it was pointing _up_.

As my gaze followed it, I concentrated on seeing the world as only a wizard could; with my Sight. My eyes watered as I avoided looking back at the people with me, or even the landscape all around that showed wispy traces of what was, what had been, and what would be. I focused on the path of the stone, and what it was trying to show me.

There, extending up into the sky, was a stairwell of moonlight.

The steps extended upward, disappearing into the dark clouds overhead. They sparkled with the colors of the rainbow, one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen.

But as incredible as the stairwell might have been, it would be impossible to journey up with the others. Leaving my own Sight up long enough for the trip might push me toward the edge of madness, and the others had nothing to see by.

As that wouldn't do, I considered my options. It didn't seem likely that sprinkling dirt across the way would make it visible to the Streetwolves, popular movies be damned.

Without fully understanding what I was doing, I stepped forward, holding my staff before me. Some part of me knew what to do; whether it was me, or the inner self I'd seen before, or even some aspect of the Winter mantle, I couldn't tell. All I knew as I lifted my staff was that I had the power necessary to do what needed to be done.

Thunder cracked as the staff struck down on the first step. Those behind me shifted nervously as a thrum filled the air, the power in the staff pulsing out into what had to seem like empty space from their perspective. That same power coursed through me, and up the steps, as a cold breeze flew through the air.

As we watched, ice popped and crackled into existence, spreading up the stairwell into the sky. I heard gasps behind me, and not a few curse words, as the frost went up and up.

* * *

But the ice didn't stop with just a light coating of the stairwell. It kept growing, grinding, as the sheer edges of the steps smoothed out beneath the slick surface. The power flowed upward, until it disappeared among the clouds.

When it was done, an icy ramp was left, leading up to the heavens.

I turned back to the Streetwolves, and took my place behind Sía on her motorcycle. Taking my lead, the leader of the gang started her engine, and over a dozen others echoed the rumble of hers as she led the way up.

I wish I could say the journey was uneventful, but it wasn't. Despite having left a central groove in the ice path to keep the motorcycles from slipping off the sides, two riders lost control of their bikes. The first was still low enough that the fall would only cost them their bike and their pride.

The second wasn't so fortunate.

When we reached the top, the bikes roared out onto a familiar landscape; one that was already teeming with the sounds of chaotic battle.

Looking over the rolling hills of opalescent grasses and pearlescent clouds, I spotted what I took to be Mab's base of operations. Waving my staff overhead, I directed the Streetwolves forward, Sía leading the way as we tore across the fields.

When we reached the Queen's camp, the Sidhe turned to look hatefully upon the iron beasts we rode. I didn't spare them a second glance, and kept my attention on their beautiful leader.

If Mab was surprised to see me there, wielding the mantle of Winter Knight, she kept it to herself. Nor did she show any surprise when I explained Aurora's plan.

With only the slightest frown of disapproval at my associates, the Queen bid me to continue on. A small contingent was sent with us, to make sure we went unmolested behind our own lines. The Streetwolves looked about in confusion, obviously struggling to understand what they were seeing. They were out of their depth, but responded with the snarling ferocity inherent to lycanthropes. Even those with mundane spirits throttled their engines and joined the fray, ready for a fight.

The forces of Summer were more than willing to give it to them.

Our journey was slowed several times as unnatural creatures did their best to stop us. Winged faeries swept down from above, but were met by Mab's forces. A column of Summer troops tried to intercept us, their silver armors glinting in the odd lights of the battlefield. But before they arrived, a squad of goblins appeared practically out of nowhere, cutting down the attackers with their dark blades.

A unit of cavalry, some of which looked to be centaurs like the one I'd killed earlier, tried charging down at us as we rode along a creek. Despite the speed of the bikes, the enemy kept pace, and were preparing to leap over the waters to run us down.

My arm moved of its own accord as words I didn't know slithered from my lips. As they did, the waters of the creek crested, curling up beneath the leaping forces. Cold power flashed out from my staff, freezing the rapids into a rolling wave of razer sharp peaks.

The centaurs and mounted units crashed into the frozen wall, their screams fading behind us as we continued on.

When it finally came time to cross, another spell froze the creek, and our bikes slipped across and up the hill, looking toward the company of defenders that stood awaiting us, even as a hedge of thorny vines grew up to surround the hilltop.

Our small party charged on, the Streetwolves gathering what weapons they could as they rode toward the Sidhe. Some were mounted, and met our charge. Shotgun blasts erupted one after the other like musket-fire, the steel buckshot spreading quickly thanks to the cylinder chokes on the barrels.

The Streetwolves' charge slowed as most of the riders opened fire, but Sía kept up her speed as we closed on the Sidhe. A large noble of the Summer Court came at us, his mystical mount moving as fast as our mechanical one.

Lowering my staff to one side, I channeled power into the soot-streaked wood. The air temperature dropped quickly as ice sprang up around the staff, quickly exceeding the surface and growing out before us. What had been a six foot length of oak quickly doubled into a four meter lance of ice, the point of which spiraled with razer edges just like the unicorn's horn I'd seen earlier.

I was surprised that I handled the heavy weapon with ease. Even if it was lighter than a lance of pure wood would have been, it still should have been a burden to bare. But as Sía drove toward the Fae lord, I found that I not only had the strength to hold it up, but to thrust it at his armored chest.

The icy point fared better against the Sidhe's silver plate than it had any right to. The elfin figure was unseated, the shaft of frozen water jutting out from his back as he tumbled to the ground.

After impact, the ice segment of the staff broke free, leaving me with just the normal length of wood, albeit still coated in frost. As we cleared the Sidhe's mount, I swung the staff one-handed with ease, taking a second rider in the face. It hit with enough force to crush his skull, and then we were past him, riding toward the waiting line of infantry.

Sía skidded to a stop short of the defenders, twisting the bike to one side as she drew a shotgun from a holster set into the bike. As we dismounted, the lycanthrope unleashed a storm of steel shot at the line, the pump action clicking smoothly as she shifted aim and fired again and again.

The iron pellets tore through the defenders, shredding armor and flesh as if they were nothing more than silk. The Sidhe fell by twos, the spread taking several at once as she mowed them down. By the time Sía had worked through the eight round capacity, almost twenty Sidhe warriors lay dead or dying on the hill, while the rest gave up their defensive position to charge down at us.

My arm rose as I stood before them, unleashing a spell I'd been working on since we'd passed the mounted units. An arctic wind surged out, ice crystals forming in the air as the temperature dropped. The violent gale sparkled in the light as it slammed into the Summer forces.

When it hit, a good dozen of the Sidhe froze solid in an instant. Their momentum threw them down, their bodies shattering into a million pieces when they hit the ground.

Those around them didn't escape the spell's effect. More suffered as body parts froze, arms and legs growing stiff and useless. Several screamed as ice spread up their necks to their faces, as they began to thrash about, trying to warm themselves with the power of Summer.

They might have done just that, if the rest of the Streetwolves hadn't arrived on roaring engines, their shotguns finishing the wounded.

Those gang members that had survived the cavalry circled around Sía and I, taking up defensive positions as the rest of the Sidhe ran on. With their barrels hot from shooting, the humans leapt off their bikes and swung them at the Sidhe, brandishing iron guns against Fae swords.

I saw one lycanthrope roar as he charged the faery creatures, a three-pronged tire iron swinging back and forth, crushing body and limb with his rage-fueled strength. He blocked a slash of a silvery sword with one of the bars, before jabbing the iron at the shorter Fae's throat. He road the creature down, pinning its neck between the prongs. As he leaned into it, the iron cut through the Sidhe, until his head tumbled away, decapitated by cold steel.

Other Streetwolves bore crowbars and lengths of rebar, swinging them viciously at the helpless defenders. Sidhe armor might have been durable against their own weapons, but they fared much worse against the materials of the real world.

As they lycanthropes fought hand-to-hand, the mortal members of the gang reloaded shotguns, only to unload them just as quickly. A few defenders proved to be skilled, and several Streetwolves fell to twisting and slashing blades moving too fast for them to parry.

Despite the advantage of steel, and my ongoing arctic blasts killing Sidhe one after the other, we were slowly losing ground to the greater numbers of the defenders. Aurora had summoned a small army to hold the hill for her as she prepared to do her bloody work. Even with the gang surrounding me, there was no way I was going to make it.

I'd just come to that realization, and was considering trying something drastic, when the sound of thundering hooves announced the arrival of the Winter Lady's forces.

A charging column of twisted monsters roared across the field, encircling the unsuspecting defenders. So intent were the Summer forces on stopping us that they'd given up the advantages of a well-formed square. They had no time to reform before the horsemen were among them, striking them down like wheat to the sickle.

As the defenders fell back from our position, a horse came to a halt beside Sía and I, circling around the bike. When I looked up, it was to find the bitter grin of Maeve herself looking down at me.

Whatever she felt for me bearing the mantle of the Winter Knight went unsaid, as she forced a smile of good cheer on her face. Relaying a message from my Godmother, the Winter Lady confirmed that her unit was to support my efforts at taking the hill.

Despite their timely and brutal arrival, her numbers were still fewer than those of Aurora's forces. Within moments, Maeve had thrown herself into the fray, leaving me to continue on toward the hilltop.

I cut my way through the battle, my staff striking Summer forces aside with ease. My suspicions about my innate strength were confirmed when a punch that should have broken teeth instead broke a neck. I thrilled at the feel of such raw power, even as I unleashed a small spell that normally would have been good for a gentle breeze, which resulted in knocking half a dozen Sidhe off their feet.

The power of the Winter Knight was incredible. How someone like Lloyd Slate had been allowed to bear it, to let its potential go to waste, was incomprehensible.

Like a savage storm I worked my way through the Sidhe, until finally there was nothing between me and the Summer Lady but the thorned hedge and a single knight.

As I strode forward, the wind at my back speeding my gait, the knight lifted the helm from her face. I slowed as I looked up at Elaine the Betrayer.

Something inside me wanted to unleash my fury on her then and there. Something that called for blood and death. And for the first time since I'd accepted the mantle from Mother Winter, I realized there might be something else dictating my actions other than myself.

I slowed, and took control of my emotions. I'd enjoyed the feeling of the mantle's power, but not at the cost of my freedom. The idea that the mantle was driving me to acts was just as chilling as the ice on my staff.

Sensing my hesitance, Elaine tried to reason with me. I heard her words, but had trouble understanding them. Her excuses, her defenses for betraying me yet again. Her assurance that she hadn't wanted me to be hurt. Her claims that it'd been she that had lied to Aurora, telling the Lady that I'd died along with Slate in that dark wood, so that I might be spared.

A part of me thought that what she said might be true. She might very well have been responsible for my survival. Aurora didn't seem like the type to leave loose ends.

Which is why I gave her the option.

Move aside, or die.

The bitterness in my voice made her pale visibly, her slim form shaking as frost began to develop on the grasses underfoot. Her eyes strayed to the landscape, widening as she realized the meaning of it. Understanding what I was, and what it meant.

And knowing that, my first love stepped aside, betraying her new master just as she had betrayed me.

I strode past, keeping a wary eye on her, waiting for yet another betrayal. Sía's arrival, with shotgun loaded and pointed at Elaine, helped me move past that threat, and allowed me to concentrate on the hedge.

When I reached it, I stopped, studying the weave of interlocking vines and branches. There was power within them, I could feel that much just standing several feet away. It was like the construct she'd made in the garden center, only stronger, more powerful there in the Never-never. There was no way a mortal wizard, short of someone on the Senior Council, was going to single-handedly make their way through that wall.

Which made it a good thing that I was no longer just a mortal wizard.

I lifted my soot-streaked staff before me, summoning more power. The power of Winter, of the cold, of the bitter, of the dark. The power of ice and air, the power of the deadliest season.

I summoned that power, and then with a swift strike, unleashed it on the hedge.

The air cracked as the vines stiffened, the moisture in them freezing. The power of Winter warred with the power of Summer. Perhaps if Aurora had been concentrating on the hedge, my spell wouldn't have been able to overcome the magics she'd laid into it. But as the hedge faced the brunt of my will, the branches froze, icing over in a narrow stretch before me.

And with a strengthened strike of my staff, the vines shattered, leaving me a path through the hedge.

Most of the defensive perimeter remained in place, but a spans wide enough for my shoulders crumbled open, littering the ground with chunks of ice. Sía knew to stay back; I'd warned her that the Streetwolves were to leave Aurora to me. I strode through alone, leaving the others behind, to face the Summer Lady.

When I cleared the hedge, I stepped into the small enclosure atop the hill. The sounds of battle faded away, the rolling clouds of multi-colored lighting the only evidence of the war that raged outside. There in the small clearing, there was nothing but peace.

Well. There was also the table, flickering with its odd hues of magical carvings. And there was the Summer Lady, poised over a limp form. And the form itself, an odd blend of marble and flesh, as the the Unraveling the Lady had placed upon the statue changed stone to skin.

A flash of intuition hit me then, as I looked upon the beautiful face of the girl in Aurora's arms. It was a face I'd seen before, in a picture. The face of the missing girl, who's friends I'd seen at the funeral.

It seemed I'd found their long lost lamb, as well as the host for the mantle of the Summer Knight.

Aurora was tied up in the Unraveling, which was still working its way through the girl. Bound to the spell, the Summer Lady could do nothing but watch as I strode up the hill toward the table, her baleful look the only thing she could cast my way.

As I reached the hilltop, the light shifted around us, the shadow of an unseen sundial stretching over the table. And something inside me knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the solstice had arrived; that the table was now in the possession of Winter.

Despite the danger, despite knowing she would not listen to reason, I gave Aurora one last chance. I warned her of the consequences of her actions, and how they would only bring about more chaos. How millions could die.

Her response was that millions had already died because of the perpetual conflict. Millions of Fae and Sidhe. If killing millions of humans was the price to pay for peace, then perhaps it was time for humanity to pay the bill.

With that, I was convinced of her madness.

As my resolve hardened, so too did hers. I saw her eyes flicker to the girl in her arms, who was almost completely restored. Time was running out.

While her eyes were still on the girl, I blurred into motion, the mantle speeding my movement. I leapt at the table, practically hurdling over the massive stone structure with ease. As my foot landed atop it, I shoved off, springing to the air as a cold wind blew at my back.

The Summer Lady saw me coming, and started to move. But with the girl in her arms, she couldn't move fast enough. As I fell toward her, I thrust my staff out, allowing the ice to grow along it to form another lance.

With the weapon coming at her, Aurora had no choice but to release the girl and retreat. She moved with surprising speed, the lance barely missing her as it dug its tip into the ground.

As she retreated, the Summer Lady's eyes grew furious, and a hand lashed out at me. It was the same gesture she'd made back in the dark wood, before she'd sent a wave of unbearable heat at me.

But at the last second, she checked herself, her eyes drifting to the unconscious girl. She was within range of the Lady's power, and might be burned along with me. It seemed Aurora only wanted the girl dead at her convenience, and spared her for the moment.

All that meant was that she'd left herself open to me. Spinning the staff, I sent power into it, blending my own aptitude with force magic with the innate control of air magic offered by the mantle. What came of that mixture was a roiling storm of thrashing wind that struck the Lady full on. It struck like lightning, sending her flying back toward the hedge wall.

While the Sidhe recovered from the attack, I checked on the girl, who was beginning to come to. Her eyes blinked open slowly, but failed to focus on anything. The last of the stone flesh had disappeared, as had the unwoven clothe that had held the Unraveling spell.

With the girl restored, the others could surely feel the presence of the mantle. The truth would be known, as long as I could keep her alive long enough to testify.

That proved to be a problem, as vines appeared out of nowhere and hauled me off my feet.

I hit the ground hard, stunned by the sudden attack. The Summer Lady had her arms extended toward me, her fingers moving as she manipulated the shoots that had grown out from her hedge. They pulled at me with alarming speed, dragging me clear of the prone girl.

Scarlet blades cut through the vines just as they had in the dark wood, freeing me from their grasp. Kravos's spells were proving handy, and as I pushed myself up, I considered what spells might fare best against the Lady.

My own talents lay toward fire and force. The first was likely worthless against the creature of Summer, and the second had only carved up her clothing and armor in my last attack. The Nightmare's talents lay elsewhere, but there wasn't enough of that power, even combined with my own, to hurt Aurora.

No, the only thing I had that could stand against her was the mantle. And as the Lady's eyes burst into furious light, her palms erupting into flame, I knew that my only chance of surviving was to give myself over to the power of the Winter Knight.

I stopped resisting that cold voice in my head that sought violence, and let it consume me.

The Lady screamed as she unleashed a column of flame, bursting forward as quick as a flame-thrower and as wide as three lane highway. It consumed everything in its path, blackening the earth as it burned the grasses away in an instant.

With the speed provided me by the mantle, I raised my left arm, willing a shield into place. I'd lost my bracelet, which meant I had no focus to help form the barrier. But in its place, I had the power of the mantle, which flowed out into the world under my will, merging with my magic.

As the fire surged toward me, a swirling wall of cold air snapped into place. The flames rolled around the edges, seeking me out, but the shield grew wider, even as the front edge boiled.

Frost spread across my body as the sweltering heat baked the air around me. It thickened over my clothes, coating them in dark ice. More crept up my neck, covering my face. Cold steam rolled off of me, blowing back under the rushing waves of fire. It trailed behind me like the tail of a comet, my small patch of earth an icy refuge under the raging fires of the Summer Lady.

The onslaught seemed to continue for ages, although only moments had passed. I could see her standing before me, unleashing the power she possessed. There was no technique to her attack; no subtlety or strategy. The Summer Lady was not a fighter.

But the Winter Knight most assuredly was.

With a cautious first step, I began to advance on her. The wall of air between us wavered as I pressed forward, but held under the inferno. I continued on, step after step, closing on my prey.

Her efforts redoubled as I grew closer, her face growing strained as the fires intensified. The frigid air wavered, and the ice coating me began to melt. But I marched on, a fierce determination filling me.

As I went, I poured power into the staff. There was no thought process involved; the mantle knew what it was, and what it could do. I'd given myself over to it, and it responded.

The staff grew colder as the ice upon it thickened. As it spread, it tapered off, forming two sharp edges to either side of the rounded staff. My grip slipped lower, even as the frigid blade grew, until I eventually found myself carrying a six foot long claymore.

When I was close enough, I screamed, swinging the massive sword of ice one-handed. It extended out past the wall of cold air, but maintained its form as it cut a swath through the conflagration.

The flames disappeared as the sword slashed across Aurora's front, cutting through her armor and leaving a streak of icy blue across her flesh.

The sword hadn't cut her; the flames had dulled the edge enough to prevent that. But it had left its mark, and the Lady stumbled backwards as the fires swirled away into nothing more than smoke, her breath haggard as she looked down at the icy trail.

Not letting up, I charged, swinging again with the sword staff. The Lady saw it coming, and moved just far enough to avoid the attack. I pressed on, keeping her on her heals as the the frozen stretch of skin slowly warmed.

As she retreated, her legs stumbled, and a thrill went through me as I drew the sword staff back, prepared to end it. She looked up in shock as the sword came down, ready to cleave her in two.

Just before the sword struck, the vines I hadn't seen coming finally reached me, ensnaring my entire body and wrenching me back.

They couldn't have checked the swing, but they didn't have to. With my body forcibly drawn away, the attack fell short, cutting a gouge into the earth mere inches from the Lady. I roared in frustration as the hedge covered me, thorns and creepers tearing at the icy armor.

In my struggles, I lost my grip on the staff, and felt it wrenched away by the vines. The rest tried pulling me to pieces, my shoulders almost popping out of their sockets as I was twisted around.

Another spell I'd never learned hissed from my lips, forming razors of ice across the frigid armor. I thrashed back and forth, allowing them to tear at the vines. Frozen water flowed over my hands, forming claws that ripped at the hedge. My scream was savage as I fought my way free, an inhuman sound that echoed across the small clearing.

As soon as I was clear, my icy eyes fixated on Aurora, and the girl she was dragging toward the table. The ice across my pupils shifted, swirling, and my vision swam as it zoomed in on my target.

I could see the knife in the Sidhe Queen's hand, a leaf-shaped blade that would spill the blood of the Summer Knight onto the table, and begin an endless war.

My pulse raced as I burst into motion, the mantle's armor all but weightless as I ran toward them. Thrusting a clawed hand forward, I unleashed another blast of air, a cutting wind that slammed into them both and seperated them, sending them sprawling.

As Aurora started to rise, my hand dipped toward one of my duster pockets. The frost coating receded to allow my fingers through. I withdrew a box and hurled it ahead of me in one motion, even as I unleashed another foreign spell.

An icy whirlwind caught the box in mid-air, tearing the cardboard to pieces. The air sparkled with ice and steel as two dozen razors swirled toward the Summer Lady.

Aurora braced herself for the wind funnel, but there was nothing she could do about the steel blades swirling within it. I saw a brief flare of heat as she tried to break the funnel apart from the inside, but at the first slice of sharpened cold iron, the young woman gasped, her power fleeing along with her breath.

And then it was nothing but a storm of air and steel, cutting her as it twirled around her.

Her anguished scream brought a fierce grin to my face, and I ran on, my blood pumping hot beneath my frigid skin. I could almost feel the icy fangs forming on my teeth as I anticipated the kill.

The spell ran its course, and as the blades and wind fell away, they revealed the ruined body of the Summer Lady. Blood flowed from dozens of wounds, no stretch of pale skin remaining unblemished. The Lady staggered from the pain as her life blood ran freely.

Our eyes met as I ran toward her, meeting for one long moment. I might have worried about a soulgaze if she'd been mortal, but the Sidhe have no soul to see. But when our eyes locked, the Summer Lady saw my soul. She saw what I was, and what I would do to her.

She saw me, and what she saw terrified her.

Aurora twisted away, her frightened gaze searching about for help. For anything or anyone that might spare her. But there was nothing but me, the girl, and the table.

The last was what she stumbled for, as her eyes widened in sudden hope.

My blood turned cold as I realized what she intended a fraction of a second after she thought of it. With the Summer Knight no longer handy to sacrifice on the table, she'd offer up the next best thing.

Herself.

The power of the Summer Lady.

She leapt, a flailing effort to reach the table.

I leapt, a lunging effort to stop her.

I failed.

She did not.

Aurora's body slammed into the table, the blood gushing from her veins quickly flowing across the stone as she sagged against it. As the carmine liquid spread, the runes and glyphs carved into the table burst into incredible light, a light bright enough to cut through the dark clouds overhead.

Power poured out from her, seeping into the creases and carvings on the slab, shining with the citrine light of the summer sun. With it came a thick golden vapor that began to seep out of the Lady's body and roll across the table. I could see it as it began to permeate the stone, a throbbing light echoing a grumbling roar that rippled out across the hilltop.

And then I was there, wrenching her away. I saw her eyes flutter, still alive, but only barely. I threw her away, her body slamming into the turf hard enough to break bone.

The majority of the mist went with her, seeming to ooze out of her as she died. Some clung to the table still, a thin tendril connecting her and the stone.

I knew that if I didn't do something, all of her power would go into the table. I waived a hand at the stone, sending a wave of frigid air at its surface. The spell wasn't all that effective, the magic slab seeming immune to direct magics. But some of the blood atop it froze, and I hastily brushed the ice chips from the surface, trying to undo what had been done.

It seemed to help, as the tendril connecting Aurora to the table thinned, before dissipating entirely. The light shining from the table slowly began to fade as I turned to Aurora, who was still clinging to the last vestiges of life.

I don't recall pulling the blade from my boot. I don't recall storming toward the girl, or consciously deciding to thrust the steel blade into her heart. Nor do I recall thrusting the cold iron into her again and again, long after she was gone.

All I know was that I watched with a grin on my face, and a laugh on my lips, as the Summer Lady died.

At some point I regained some of my senses, and stepped back from the girl, watching as the power flowed up and out of her. I caught the barest outline of a fiery bird of some sort amidst the glowing sphere of light, the sight of it too bright for my frost-covered eyes. And then it was gone, shooting out across the hill and diving into the chest of the other girl.

The pretty girl shook, spasming as the mantle of the Summer Lady returned to the closest aspect of Summer. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that it hadn't instead headed for the table.

I walked across the hilltop, looking at the girl as the hedge around us slowly broke apart. She was a pretty thing, and my pulse quickened at the sight of her. She would be a delicious—

No. Those weren't my thoughts. That was the mantle.

I stumbled backwards as my mind began to clear. I dropped the knife somewhere along the way, my head spinning as the ice and frost melted away from my skin and clothes. Within a minute, the last of it was gone, leaving only the wizard behind.

My pulse quickened again, not in excitement, but in fear. I'd nearly lost myself to the mantle, not recognizing the danger of letting it dictate my actions.

I was still trying to understand everything that had happened, trying to separate the thoughts of the mantle from my own, when a bright light grew over my shoulder. I turned, squinting at what looked like the sun crashing down on that small hilltop, the land broiling in a sudden heat.

As it came, something hit me. A wall of pure force, pure hatred, that slammed into my mind and body like a blazing comet. I remember feeling pain, unbelievable pain.

And then nothing.

* * *

Time passed. I couldn't tell you how much. When the sun falls out of the sky, how do we track the hours and days?

Eventually I awoke, to find myself still in the Never-never. The skies overhead were less turbulent, but shadows still fell across the land.

When I sat up, I found that I wasn't alone. Three Queens of Winter stood beside me, although none of them were looking my way. Their attention was on the retreating light, a golden nimbus that looked to be setting on the far side of a blackened hill.

It took me a moment to realize that it was the same hill, as the silhouette of the stone table stood starkly against the fading light.

Everything on the hill was ash. No grass, no hedge, no life. It was a wasteland of charcoal and soot, with just the stone table remaining at its peak.

As the sun finally dipped over the horizon, the Queens turned to me as one. Each bore a different look, and I wasn't sure which I feared more.

The battle was over. When the stone girl had been revived, the Queens had sensed the presence of the Summer Knight. They'd realized just what was happening, and as we'd hoped, moth sides pulled their forces back. The Queens had set out to converge on the hilltop, their determination to kill one another forgotten.

They'd sensed it when Aurora's power had begun to pour into the table, and their pace had redoubled. The first to arrive was Titania, Aurora's mother, who watched helplessly from too far as I'd driven my knife into her daughter's heart again and again.

I looked to the scorched earth, and realized that it had been no sun that had descended upon me, but the pain and rage of a grieving mother.

Only the presence of the Winter Knight's power had spared me from the initial blast. That, and the timely arrival of the Queens of Winter, which stilled the raging Summer Queen's hand. Instead of taking her vengeance, Titania had taken her daughter's body, and the newly crowned Lady, retreating to her own lands to see to her child.

The Queens of Winter were of mixed opinion about what had happened. Maeve tried to keep up a brave face, but seemed somewhat unsettled. I wasn't sure if it was because her cousin had died, or because I'd so brutally murdered her. Either way, she kept her distance, which was fine by me.

Mab held no fear of me, but nor did she hold any delight in my victory. I'd only barely completed my task, and failed to a certain degree even in that. Black crept into the corner of her eyes, something I would only later realize had signified just how close she'd come to punishing me then and there.

Of the three, only Mother Winter seemed pleased, which was a terrifying prospect. The old crone, who had seemed almost immobile in the cottage, and against after I'd accepted the mantle from her, stood a little straighter there on the hill. Part of me wondered if it was because she had enjoyed witnessing the death and destruction of the battle, something I would find was definitely in her nature.

But no, I was wrong about that, too. It was not satisfaction that had straightened her back.

It was the power spilled into the table, strengthening Winter at the cost of their eternal foes.

I might have stopped Aurora from sacrificing all of her power, but plenty had passed through the stone and into the Winter Wellspring. Enough to invigorate an old crone. Enough to unbalance the precarious balance between the Courts.

Enough to begin a small ice age back on earth.

The battle between the Courts was over.

But the war had just begun.

* * *

True to her word, Mother Winter offered to take the mantle back.

I could tell by the crooked smile she wore that she knew my answer even before I did.

She'd certainly stacked the deck against me. As we stood upon that Faerie landscape, a tall figure approached, which I recognized as the lean silhouette of the Gatekeeper. He'd come to retrieve his piece of the stone table. I was quick to return it, but the man lingered, clearly awaiting my answer.

Under his unnatural gaze, Mother Winter all but grinned as she explained that, as the Winter Knight, I would be free from the justice of the White Council. As much as they might want me dead, they would not offend the Sidhe.

In addition, the Red Court would also decrease their efforts to have me killed. They wouldn't stop trying, but they'd be more circumspect about it. No more open contracts for my life.

After eight months on the run, I'd be free. Free to rest and recuperate. Free to rebuild my life, and replace everything I'd lost. Free to live.

All at it would cost me was my soul.

Despite the inherent danger of refusing her, I was still tempted to decline. I could still feel that gleeful darkness in me, that evil that had taken hold of me as I'd hunted down the Summer Lady.

Yes, the power felt incredible. It was enough power to ensure my safety, to protect me from my enemies. But at the same time, I was repulsed by it, and by what I had done. And I knew that if I accepted her offer, I would only be agreeing to leave myself at the mercy of the mantle for the foreseeable future, if not forever.

How could I hope to maintain my sense of self against such a thing?

I knew that I couldn't. Not forever.

Mother Winter must have sensed my refusal. She must have known I'd decline, and take my chances with the White Council and the Red Court, rather than lose myself.

Which is why she saved the best for last.

Her grin widened as she informed me that, if I did not keep the mantle, that there would be nothing that Winter could do to protect me from the new enemy I'd made. The one that held more power than any other creature I'd seen, save for Mab and the Mothers themselves. One that would not rest until she gained her vengeance.

I looked back to the scorched top of the hill, and realized that I really had no choice at all.

So I did what I had to. To survive.

* * *

When I returned to the real world, it was to a society in turmoil.

Scientists were hard pressed to explain the global cool-down. Some argued that it was a normal phenomenon unobserved in recent times, while others said it was nature's way of adapting to global warming. As always, humanity found a way to avoid facing the truth.

The initial frigid temperatures that accompanied the transfer of power between the Courts were short-lived, but the damage was lasting. Crops in both hemispheres suffered from unseasonal frost, which eventually led to food shortages. Wars broke out on several continents as nations grew desperate, and those that had surpluses either gouged the market or stock-piled for themselves.

Over time, the world adapted to the onset of the New Ice Age. Humanity retreated from the glaciers expanding out from the poles. New lands were cleared for crops, and eventually a new equilibrium was found.

Locally, things weren't so bad. The Windy City became the Arctic City for a while there, but those further north had it much worse. Overall, the people adapted, although there were fewer beach weather days, as the summers grew shorter.

The Streetwolves that survived the battle returned to Chicago, guaranteed that their role in things would not incite any retribution. They'd been my agents, and any reprisal would be directed at me rather than them.

While that might have reassured Sía and her people, it did little to settle my nerves.

In return for their service, I made sure they were compensated for their losses. As the Winter Knight, I had plenty of resources to draw on, and took care of those that had taken care of me. Months of favors and debt were settled, and a new arrangement was made.

With my help, the Streetwolves found themselves once more a contender on Chicago's crowded streets. In time, their numbers swelled, as lycanthropes from across the country, and some from even further, found a home in the pack that served the Winter Knight. They eventually grew powerful enough to push back against the Red Court and John Marcone, which pleased me immensely.

The resources available to me as the Winter Knight also came in handy in clearing my name with the authorities. Those like Murphy might have suspected that I wasn't quite as innocent as my top-tier lawyers proclaimed, but there was nothing they could about it. The Sidhe didn't have the local pull that Marcone had, but between their efforts, and the sudden recanting of Bianca's testimony, I was free and clear within in a few months.

The Gatekeeper had delivered the news to the White Council. Rumors reached me that several wardens threatened to revolt when they were told not to pursue me, but I had no way of knowing if that was true or not. I liked to picture Morgan bursting a blood vessel or two when he found out, but on the whole, I was just pleased to have them off my back.

Bianca didn't give up, but her efforts were largely curtailed. She couldn't afford to openly antagonize the Winter Court, especially considering their recent increase in power. So she worked subtly, and I dealt with the few assassins that still showed up at my door.

With my name cleared on all fronts, I set up shop again in Chicago. My days as a P.I. were over, but there was nowhere else I'd rather be. I knew the city better than anywhere else, and between the Streetwolves and my new cadre of Fae servants, I managed to keep tabs on everything that happened in my town.

Of course, it was no vacation. The Winter Queens kept me busy. As the Winter Knight, I found myself drawn deeper and deeper into their cold war with Summer, who was desperately seeking to re-balance the scales.

From what I understood, the Queens could have settled matters easily enough, with Winter giving power back through the table. But Mother Winter, feeling better than she had since the last ice age, was loath to give up her restored vitality. In her mind, the power that Summer lost was a satisfactory tribute for having let their own Lady stray so far from her purpose.

So the war ground on, with me on the front lines, dealing with things as they arose, all while avoiding Titania's subtler attempts at avenging her daughter.

With each passing night, with each fight for survival upon the varied battlefields of the Sidhe Courts, it became harder and harder to resist the call of the mantle's power; to retain who I was. I was drowning in icy waters, and had little to keep me afloat.

As the months dragged on, as I was pulled further and further away from my humanity, I clung to what I could. But a bitterness crept into my heart, as I realized that the freedom I'd sought had simply been replaced with new chains, chains held by my Sidhe masters.

I recalled thinking Slate a fool. A fool to let himself be used first by Maeve, and then by Aurora. A fool to let the Sidhe twist him, corrupt him, until there was no trace of who he'd been. I convinced myself that I was stronger than he was, smarter than he was. But in time, as I found myself bound tighter and tighter, I realized I was only fooling myself.

No-one gets the better of the Sidhe.

And as I clung to a desperate hope that I might still gain my freedom, the bard's words haunted me.

Lord, what fools these mortals be.


	3. Chapter 3

Death Knell

UPDATE: After receiving feedback, I have preceded with the narrative style story for Death Knell. Due to the length, I have begun posting chapters in a separate story. Please see my profile page for _Death Knell (Word of Dresden 5) Mirrorverse._ The first nine chapters have been posted. The rest will be added in the coming days.

Thanks again for everyone's feedback. I hope you enjoy.


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